


Home is Where the Heart Is

by Witchydigit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Viktor/Yurio is entirely platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchydigit/pseuds/Witchydigit
Summary: With Viktor's engagement to Yuuri, and Yurio's suggestive exhibition skate prompting his fans to assume his personal relationships, the Russian government is not happy with their very public national symbols. Both of them, along with many other athletes, have been barred from the country or threatened with arrest if they do not renounce their homosexual lifestyles. What this means for the two skaters is that they must flee their home. One silver-haired veteran is perfectly happy to do so and move in with his fiance, but the ordeal is much more difficult to come to terms with for a certain perpetually angry 16-year-old.





	1. Enter the Madness: The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Okay but really. Who would expect anything else? I require a certain amount of realism in my fiction, thank you very much. I'll do my best to get the facts right about the timing of certain figure skating competitions, but calendars are not my friends, so I apologize if I mix things up a little.

Viktor was reading the mail he’d had forwarded to the Hasetsu Hot Springs as he cuddled with Maccachin. He found the envelope he was looking for, an official-looking thing with a lot of boring words contained inside. Still, he really ought to scan it anyways. Just as he was starting to read the official government notice, his phone rang on the coffee table. Thank god! He really didn’t want to sit down and worry about all the official business.

“Aah, Yakov, how are you? A little late for a social call, don’t you think? What time is it over there? I always forget the difference.”

“Viktor, I need to ask you a favor.”

The old coach usually ignored Viktor’s friendly greetings, but this time something was different. The skater sat up and urged Yakov to continue with a soft hum.

\-------

“Yuri! Grab your things, you’re coming with me.”

The blonde came to a stop on the ice, glaring at his coach in indignation. “You always tell me I need to stop slacking off. What did I do to piss you off now?” He stood with one hip cocked, hand rested on it as he forced Yakov to yell across the rink at him. Like hell he was going to just do as he was told. Yuri was still holding a grudge against the man for prioritizing Georgi over him in the Grand Prix series.

“Do as I say you evil little brat! I will not hesitate to come out there and force you!”

Yuri skated over to the dividing wall, his lip already raising in a snarl. He was always ready for a fight, and Yakov seemed intent on pushing him today. “What did you call me!?”

Before the Russian punk could say anything more, a strong hand reached out to grab his shoulder. He felt a slight tremor through it, and looked into Yakov’s eyes. What he found there was unsettling. Yakov looked sad, and a little scared. Sympathy was something that didn’t seem like it belonged on the man’s grizzled face.

“Please, just do as I say.”

Something compelled Yuri to listen to his coach for once. He stepped off the ice in a numb haze and started unlacing his skates. He had the distinct feeling of being a kid again. When you were out in public with your parents, and everything seemed fine to you, but they knew something was wrong, and their distress was scarier than anything that could possibly be happening. Yakov led Yuri out of the rink by his arm, which further unsettled him. Did the man think he would try to run away? No, that was too unusual of him.

“Oi, where are we going? Home is that way.”

Yakov huffed at Yuri’s comment, looking at the boy and shaking his head. “We aren’t going home, Yuri. I’m taking you to a small airport where a friend of a friend is going to fly you to Helsinki. Then you will take a commercial flight to Japan, where Viktor will pick you up. Don’t make a scene, talk casually, and keep your voice down.”

Yuri gritted his teeth around the urge to explode at the man. He vainly tugged at Yakov’s grip, but he wasn’t really trying to get away. “What’s going on? Why are you sending me to Japan so close to to the World Championship? What about…”

The blonde was cut off by a sharp squeeze to his upper arm, and a glance from Yakov. “What did you think would happen after that exhibition skate, Yurio? Your fangirls flocked to social media with videos of you and that Kazakhstani boy. After the incident at the Grand Prix finals, the tabloids are convinced the two of you are…” Yakov cleared his throat and looked around before continuing. “Intimate with each other. You know the government's views on homosexuality. They don't care if you are having relations with another man or not, that routine you performed was more than enough to be considered propaganda, and you had the gall to perform it on Russian soil."

Yuri felt lightheaded. Yakov’s words seemed to take forever to reach him, like they were made of molasses. He glanced around quickly, noticing that everything seemed sharper, more in focus. He noticed a flock of pigeons squabbling over a discarded bit of bread, only to be scattered by a group of men walking to the cafe on the corner of the street, no doubt on their way to lunch. It all happened so slowly, like it was a scene in a movie.

“Yuri, are you listening to me? I’ll have your things shipped over later today, so they should arrive shortly after you. I will do my best to get this sorted out before the Worlds, so until then I want you to keep training under Viktor’s guidance. He may be a lousy coach, but he owes me, and it’s better than letting you slack off with no one to watch over you.”

“So I’ll be training with the other Yuuri,” the blonde grumbled. It was the first thing he could seem to make sense of, and his familiar frustration over the situation with Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor felt better than this new fear and anxiety.

“Don’t be a brat. It’s better than being arrested.” Yakov sighed as they waited for a taxi, looking at his young charge. “Hopefully this will all blow over soon. If the government keeps threatening all our athletes, pretty soon we won’t have a public image to take pride in at all.”

\-------

Yuri slouched in his seat at the terminal, legs splayed out across the little aisle between the seats. He didn’t give a shit if he was blocking the way, and he just glared at anyone that dared get within a few feet of him. He was currently homeless, he had a reason to be pissy.

It had been thirty minutes already, and Yuri had about another three and a half hours to wait. At the very least Yakov could have booked him a sooner flight, couldn’t he? Or not have dragged him off so quickly? He was directing his anger and disappointment onto his coach, but at least the man could take his abuse.

Yurio stood up and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He’d decided he was tired of sitting around and wanted to take a walk. He needed to blow off some steam, and as much as he’d love to break something right now, he didn’t need to be taken in by the Air Marshals. Despite popular opinion, Yuri did have _some_ common sense.

The blonde wandered around the terminal, his mouth watering at the smell of burgers and fries coming from a restaurant nearby. He hadn’t had a chance to eat yet, and his body was craving a meal even though his practice had been interrupted. He knew a greasy burger would make him sick, though. He’d been training from such a young age that the health choices most skaters found difficult to make were second nature to him now. Now that he thought of it, Yuri couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten any kind of fast food. He kept walking, until he turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

In front of him, down a fairly deserted hallway, was one of the airport carts that drove old people around between terminals. It had no one attending it, and no one seemed to pay any mind as they passed by. It was like the hallway itself was invisible. An impish smile spread across Yurio’s face, and he quickly trotted toward the cart as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

The blonde quickly hopped into the driver’s seat of the cart and held his phone out to take a few selfies. It was then that he noticed that the key was still in the thing’s ignition. He looked around, but there was still no one to be found. It occurred to him that he could totally take the cart for a joyride. It was just a matter of turning that key and pressing the gas.

Yurio took a picture of his temptation, uploading it to instagram. _“I’m gonna do it. #rebel #fuckthepolice #punkrock”_ He waited for a few moments, refreshing his page to see if anyone responded. Sure enough, a ton of notifications flooded his inbox. A lot of them were likes from his fangirls, with a few inane comments that he really didn’t care to read. Pichit posted a comment asking where he was and where he was going, and a lot of other skaters that were following him commented along the lines of _“Don’t do it!”_ It was Otabek’s comment that spurred the blonde on, however. It was simple, just a quick _“#Idareyou,”_ but it was enough to make Yurio turn the key in the ignition and press the pedal to make the thing go.

He recorded a video, of course. He drove the cart down to the end of the hallway and then back, contemplating taking it out into the crowds of people at the airport. But he wasn’t that stupid. He was still aware that he could easily be kicked out or arrested here in Finland, and that wouldn’t do him any good at all. He quickly saved his video evidence and bailed out of the cart, getting back into the crowd of people just in time as two security officers jogged down the main hall and turned the corner to inspect what was going on. That really was a close call! Yuri returned to his terminal to post the video, feeling at least a little less wound up now.

\-------

“I don’t understand why Yakov is sending him here, though,” Yuuri mused. Viktor was bringing him along to the airport to pick up Yurio, figuring it would make the trip more fun since the younger Russian would no doubt be sulking on the ride back to Hasetsu. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep him closer, since he’s still trying to get Yurio to the Worlds? How can he keep up a proper training regime from halfway across the world?”

Viktor hummed and placed his arm comfortably around Yuuri’s shoulders. “That is a thing you only learn when you become a coach, my love. There is more to keeping a skater in top condition that practice and exercise. The heart needs to be kept healthy as well.”

Yuuri gave him a skeptical glance, but Viktor just chuckled. He continued working on the sign he’d been writing through the car trip. After all, what kind of airport greeting would it be without a cute sign with Yurio’s name on it? It would make the blonde pout adorably. His fiance shrugged and leaned his head against Viktor’s chest. Maybe he was just worried about the wedding. Or Viktor’s own banishment from Russia. Or…

“Would you by any chance be jealous that I will be acting as Yurio’s coach while he’s here, Yuuri?”

The raven startled out of the comfortable embrace, eyes widening as he stared at Viktor. “Wh-what? No! Why would you say that? Do I look jealous? I-I-I’m totally secure in our relationship, Viktor! C’mon!”

The Russian laughed, pinching his fiance’s flushed cheek. “I know, I just like it when you get all flustered. You’re absolutely adorable.” 

The rest of the car ride was spent in a comfortable silence. They arrived at the airport a little late due to traffic, and were in a bit of a rush to find the boy they were there to pick up. Yurio hadn’t blown up Viktor’s phone like he expected, which was a little concerning. They had to run around the airport searching for Yuri, and if Viktor was honest, he was starting to get more than a little scared. Perhaps this was what it was like to have a child. Finally they found the familiar head of blonde hair, hidden in the boy’s black hood as he fiddled with his phone in a corner.

_“There you are, Yurio. You nearly gave me a heart attack hiding like that!”_ Viktor greeted the boy in Russian, knowing his native tongue would catch his attention quicker than anything else. As expected, the blond’s head whipped around, and he fixed blue-green eyes on Viktor. Eyes that looked a little too shiny to just be a reaction to the cold air seeping in from the doors to outside. _“Sorry we’re late, but the traffic at this time is just terrible. Come, let’s get your things and head home, shall we?”_

The older skater was trying to be kind, but something he said must have hit a nerve. Yurio curled his lip and stood up, stretching to his full height to stare into Viktor’s eyes. _“This is not my home, and it never will be. I’m only staying here for a while until I can return to St. Petersburg, and then I never want to set eyes on this shitty town ever again. Do you hear me, old man?”_

Viktor smiled and nodded, Yuuri placing a hand at the small of his back when it looked like he might fall over under the intensity of Yurio’s anger. It was definitely going to be an awkward couple of months.


	2. Welcome to the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor is hit or miss with his parenting skills and nearly drowns Yurio

Yurio dropped his bag on the familiar bed in the attic of Yuuri’s home. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than being put up at a hotel. At the very least this would be cheaper, since he was staying as Viktor and Yuuri’s guest. And it didn’t have the same fleeting feeling most hotel rooms had, where you knew someone had been in your same bed the night before, and someone else would be in it the next day. Yurio always thought of them as whore beds, being rented out to whoever had the money. This room was much more homey, felt lived in rather than slept in. But that just added to his growing sense of displacement. He didn’t want this to become his new home. He already had a home in Russia, with his grandfather and his cat and his own room that he’d had since he was a kid. How could he just forget about all of that?

The blonde dropped face-first onto the bed after his bag with a loud groan. All this thinking was making his head hurt something fierce. That and the jetlag. It was already midnight here, but he was ready for dinner. His stomach grumbled to remind him that he hadn’t found anything decent to eat at the airport. Yuri pushed himself up off the bed and wandered downstairs, looking around for Viktor. He didn’t find the man in the room he’d used last time the both of them were here, and kicked the wall in frustration. Where the hell was the bastard!?

Someone padded out of a room nearby, no doubt to check out what the commotion was. Yuri spun on his heel, hands clenched into fists ready to argue with whoever dared try to scold him. He was caught off guard when it was someone he didn’t really recognize. To be honest, he’d forgotten about the rest of the Katsuki family. That was why he didn’t blow up like he intended when he was faced with a tired-eyed Mari giving him a skeptical look.

“Need something?” Yuuri’s older sister drawled. She was in her pyjamas, obviously not too happy about being woken up in the middle of the night.

Yuri turned away with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was looking for Viktor. I’m starving, and the asshole never fed me.”

Mari smiled and chuckled, beckoning for Yuri to follow her. “If all you need is a little dinner, Viktor is hardly the one to ask. I’ll set you up with something.”

Yurio followed reluctantly, shoving his hands in his pockets and slumping his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly embarrassed about his outburst, but he definitely hadn’t been intending to be caught by anyone. He sulked at a table as Mari made him a simple meal of rice, eggs, and vegetables covered in a miso broth. She sat down with him after serving it and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the Russian’s direction.

“So, I heard you and Viktor got kicked out of Russia for being too gay. Kinda sucks, don‘t you think?”

“You’re telling me,” Yuri grumbled around a mouthful of food as he began stuffing his face. “It’s not fair! I didn’t even do anything! Wait… Viktor too?”

Mari chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. What did you expect after his engagement? He’s been working on getting all his stuff transferred over, and he’s pushing the wedding date pretty hard. No doubt so Yuuri won’t worry about him at the next competition.”

The blonde looked down at his bowl. He hadn’t realized that this was affecting anyone but himself. He knew that was selfish, but he didn't really care. After all, he didn’t have anyone to go running to to make everything better. As much as his fans swore up and down that he and Otabek were a thing (he’d been looking at the social media posts while waiting for Viktor to show up at the airport) he wasn’t sure if the Kazakhstani even thought of him that way. Hell, he didn’t even know if he thought of Otabek that way! He’d been so focused on his goals, on skating, that he hadn’t ever given a thought to the idea of romance. With anyone.

“Anyways, it’s not like they can really keep you out for long. You and Viktor are the pride of Russian Figure Skating.”

Yurio didn’t respond. He finished his meal and thanked Mari for the food, taking his dishes to the sink and rinsing them out. He wanted to be alone for a while, and she seemed to understand that. The Russian retreated to his room, thoughts whirling through his mind as he tried to fall asleep. He didn’t have much success until the early hours of the morning, finally catching a few hours of sleep just before dawn.

\-------

“It’s time to wake up my sleepy little kitten.”

Yuri growled and pulled the covers close over his head. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was too damn early for Viktor to be waking him up. He tried to go back to sleep, only to yelp when the covers were pulled off of him roughly.

“That’s no way to train for the World Series Yurio. Or do you want to lose the gold to my Yuuri? Come on, it’s well past time for you to be up and training.”

That comment had the blonde scrambling out of bed, sliding ungracefully to the floor as he tried to force his tired limbs to work. “You could be a little more sympathetic you asshole! I’ve barely slept, and I’m still sore from yesterday!”

“Oh? And why would you be sore? Didn’t you use that layover in Finland to do your stretches like you’re supposed to?”

“Nyet. I’d already cooled down too much. Ugh, I don’t need to explain myself to you, old man! Get lost!” Yuri grabbed his blanket back, plopping back down on the bed. He stiffened when Viktor sat next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you just want to sleep, but Yakov and I agreed that you need to keep a regular schedule. It simply won’t do to let you sulk around and lose focus.”

Yuri could hear something in the man’s tone, and it made his skin crawl. It was almost… fatherly, if he didn’t know any better. He wasn’t used to it at all, and he shrugged the hand off his shoulder with a grunt.

“Fine,” Viktor sighed softly. “I’ll give you ten more minutes to rest, but then I really won’t let you laze about any longer. You better think about getting dressed before I come back, or I’ll have to dress you myself, little kitten.”

Yurio shuddered, hesitating for a moment once the door to his room was closed, before he got up and dressed quickly in his athletic gear. No way was he going through the humiliation of Viktor getting him ready like he was five years old. He eventually wandered downstairs and found breakfast laid out for him at the table in the dining room. It was more Japanese fare, and while it was good, he found himself missing the dishes traditional to his home, especially around this time of year.

\-------

“No, no, what’s wrong Yurio? You seem much more stiff than usual. Yakov said your theme for the upcoming season is your awakening as your own man. You even chose your own music for your short program for the first time in your career. This performance is lackluster at best. Definitely not something I would expect from you.”

Yuri growled, coming out of his half-Beilman too quickly and catching the palm of his hand on the edge of his skate. He shook off the drop of blood that beaded on base of his thumb as he went over to confront Viktor.

“I told you I’m sore, did I not? It wasn’t my idea to stop in the middle of training with no cooldown or chance to stretch, and then sit in a plane for an hour before waiting at the terminal for another five. I’m tired because of the fucking six hour time difference, and above all else, I am sick of listening to you criticize me when you know I’m trying to adjust to all the shit that's happened! If you think you know what my routine ought to look like, then show me, old man!”

Why he was being even more aggressive than usual, Yuri wasn’t actually sure. Yes, all the things he’d listed were true, but there was something else as well. He felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. He was used to the random fits of anger he felt, but this was constant. The tension had been with him since Yakov had pulled him off the ice the day before in Russia, and the only semblance of relief he’d felt was when he had finally managed to sleep.

“That sounds like a great idea! After all, skating the routine will give me an even better sense of how to coach you!” Viktor’s enthusiasm wound that spring inside Yurio even tighter. He gritted his teeth as he stepped off the ice and nursed the cut to his hand. He ignored Viktor as the man laced up his own skates and stepped out into the rink. The music started playing, and Yuri finally looked up at his temporary coach. The song he’d chosen was very different from anything the man had ever skated to. But Yuri was developing a soft spot for My Chemical Romance after finding a few albums in a bargain bin during his travels for last season. The band was still relatively new in Russia, having only recently been brought over.

The song he chose was “Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back,” and as the opening riff sounded, Viktor skated into the center of the arena. Yuri had worked with Yakov and Lilia, along with a few of his rinkmates to try and choreograph his routine. He wasn’t skilled enough to put together something by himself yet, but after Viktor had forgotten all about his promise, it was his next goal. To choreograph all of his own routines, as soon as possible, so he would never be left in the dark like that again. The memory of his idol’s negligence colored his perception of the performance. Sure, it was technically perfect, but this time it was Viktor who was missing the interpretation. He wasn’t as much of a god as everyone thought.

Viktor was entering the second combination spin around the 1:18 time arker and Yuri couldn’t stand watching his almost morose performance. “Nyet, nyet! You’re doing it all wrong! Let me show you!” He stood and stepped onto the ice, signalling that the song should be started from the beginning as he literally pushed Viktor out of his way. His performance this time was more along the lines of what he had been practicing, a sense of youthful energy in each of his movements, combined with the perfect positioning of someone who had been training for all his life. When the song cut out at the 1:40 mark, shortening it for time, Yurio stood on the ice panting, looking around for Viktor.

“Yes, you’re right Yurio, that is a much different performance. I got the mood completely wrong. Now, take a few laps around the rink to cool off, and we can see about that soreness you’ve been telling me about.”

Yuri nodded in satisfaction, not realizing how easily he had been manipulated by Viktor. The man had completely redirected his frustration, using it to get him focused on his program, rather than the circumstances he couldn’t control. The tension the blonde felt was lessened, but only marginally as he practiced a few footwork tricks on his laps around the ice.

\-------

“It’s really not so bad. The minerals in the hot springs can help with stiff muscles and sore joints. A lot of athletes go to them as part of their training regime.”

“Da, it will be fun! We can relax together like a family!”

Yurio dug his heels into the ground as Viktor and Yuuri tried to drag him to the baths after practice. He was adamantly refusing to go into the hot springs, uncomfortable with bathing around a bunch of older men. He was only sixteen, how did they expect him to hang around a bunch of old creepy pedos!? The suggestion that the three could ever be anything similar to kin was the last straw. The blonde picked up one foot and jammed it into Viktor’s side, forcing him to let go of the blond's hand.

“I told you I will never be a part of your stupid family, even if you got on your knees and begged me! You already lost that chance old man!”

Yurio stopped dead, standing up straight and looking away from the two men in front of him. He was about to run when Viktor tackled him and threw him over his shoulder, to everyone’s shock and Yuri’s dismay. “Fine then. You want to be a particular kitten, we can have a private bath drawn up just for you. But you’re going to bathe no matter what little Yurio, and get those stiff muscles nice and relaxed.”

If he could have seen it, Yuri probably would have been scared by Viktor’s face. The older Russian was finding after only a single day of dealing with the teenager that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Yuri was one thing, he only had the issue of his poor self esteem. But Yurio was a different beast altogether. Viktor dropped him in a private bathroom with a steaming tub of water already drawn up, and set a chair to jam the door so Yurio couldn’t get out. “Now, I expect to come back and see you nice and relaxed in that warm water, Yurio. If you don’t, I’ll come in there and force you in that bath myself, clothes and all.”

“Viktor, do you really think that’s the best way to deal with him? I mean, you can’t just manhandle someone to make them do what you want.”

The Russian looked over at his fiance as they walked away to give Yuri some privacy. “You’re right Yuuri. At least you would be. You, my love, require a certain amount of finesse. But Yurio here…” Viktor sighed, glancing back at the bath and lowering his voice slightly. “Yurio has a few problems. He isn’t just angry because he’s a teenager. True, that is part of it, but… There seems to be a pattern, based on what Yakov told me. Even he hasn't quite figured it out yet, and he's been working with Yurio for years, but I feel like I've made a terrible mistake. I just want to make things right."

“What do you mean, Viktor?”

\-------

Yuri tried in vain to tug the door open and escape his current imprisonment. After a few minutes he finally gave up and sat down on the tile floor. The room was hot with the steam from the water, and he felt like he could barely breathe. After a long moment of hesitation, he started stripping his clothes. Even if he hated soaking in hot baths, he might as well take the chance to wash himself. He slowly lowered one leg into the tub, hissing at the heat. What was Viktor trying to do, boil him alive!? The blonde slowly adjusted to the heat, and slid his other leg in. Finally he was pretty much completely submerged, and he felt like shit. Sure, his muscles didn’t hurt, but he was so uncomfortable from the heat. How did anyone ever enjoy things like this?

\-------

“Viktor, sometimes you make mistakes, but you can’t be held fully responsible for how someone reacts. And besides, despite everything that happened last year, Yurio still won gold. You didn’t directly damage his career, so there’s no reason for you to feel bad.”

The Russian smiled softly. He appreciated Yuuri’s insistence, but he was biased. He was Viktor’s fiance, after all, and had viewed him as perfect for a very long time. If only he knew the truth. “Still, I feel I should make it up to him somehow. Even if I didn't damage his career, I might have wounded his heart. I just need him to let me in so I can try to fix it.”

Yuuri nodded, pulling Viktor into a hug. The Russian accepted it, but only indulged for a few moments. They’d been talking for over half an hour, and he figured he should probably check on Yurio, see if he’d managed to escape yet. Viktor was surprised when the door and chair were still intact, and there was no sign of damage to any part of the wall. He knocked on the door, but didn’t hear an answer.

“Yurio? Are you still in there? If you don’t answer me I’m going to come in… Yurio?”

Yuuri gave Viktor a worried look, and the man quickly unblocked the door to open it. He was still half expecting to find that Yurio had escaped, if he was honest with himself. What he wasn’t expecting was to find the boy slumped in the bath, eyes closed and breathing heavily. “Yuuri, grab me a towel, quickly! I think he’s overheated!”

His fiance handed a fluffy white towel to Viktor, and the man draped it over Yurio as he lifted the blonde out of the tub. Yuri turned his head, eyes fluttering as he struggled against exhaustion. “Don’t… touch me… old man…” the boy mumbled softly. At least he didn’t seem too delirious. That was a good sign. Yuuri ran ahead and grabbed a bowl of cold water as Viktor carried his charge to his room and laid him down in bed.

“Honestly, Yurio. How does Yakov deal with you?” Despite his tough exterior, the blonde was even more delicate than Yuuri, in some ways. But it was partly his own fault, too, wasn't it? Viktor was supposed to be watching out for the kid. He definitely had the distinct feeling of being a worried father as he watched his fiance bathe Yurio's head with a rag soaked in the cool water. What had he done wrong? The bath hadn't seemed that hot to him, but he supposed he was used to the hot spring's water by now, which could come out scalding some days. The young Russian's skin was a bright pink where he'd been submerged in the bath, a stark contrast to his otherwise porcelain skin. Viktor felt so guilty, despite Yuuri's conformation that Yurio would be fine, and just needed to sleep off the heat exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Yuri is totally a little emo shit and is using an MCR song for his free skate. Don't judge me. I worked hard on finding a song I thought he would actually listen to, was dynamic enough to skate to, and that could potentially fit the requirements of a Free Skate program. You have no idea how hard that shit is >.<


	3. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yurio is a sad kitten pretty much the entire day.

Yurio woke up to his phone buzzing erratically. He rubbed his temples as he grabbed the device and turned it on to check what the notifications were. He hadn’t turned the brightness down the night before, and hissed as the blue light of his screen assaulted his eyes. There was a noise from behind him, and the blonde turned over to see the other Yuuri half asleep in a chair by his bed.

“Ugh, what are you doing here Pork Cutlet Bowl!? Why are you in my room?”

Yuuri blinked his eyes open fully, looking tired. He must have been sleeping in the chair before the light from the Russian’s phone woke him. “Viktor wanted to keep an eye on you after you passed out in the bath, so I offered to take over for him while he got some rest. Ugh, sorry, I must have nodded off.” The raven yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, giving Yurio a faint smile.

“Serves him right forcing me to get into that fucking soup. If he’d given me a chance to explain instead of threatening me, he’d know I’m sensitive to heat.” The Russian was definitely pouting, but he didn’t care. He’d just gotten more evidence that Viktor was a shitty role model. The fact that Yuuri was there didn’t improve his mood at all. Yuuri was a good skater, and after getting to know him the guy wasn't too unbearable. But the fact that he was always connected to Viktor kept Yurio from being able to be anything but pissed at him. The blonde turned the brightness down on his phone and checked his notifications, his heart sinking even more.

He’d gotten a bunch of messages on facebook wishing him a happy birthday. With everything going on in Japan, he’d almost forgotten about it. Almost. His complaint to Yakov came back to him, that he’d never been able to voice, and he felt tears stinging his eyes. He was seventeen today, and there was no way he could celebrate with his grandfather like he'd done ever since he could remember. Those tears slid down his cheeks despite his best efforts to stop them, and finally Yurio had to let out a tiny sob to relieve the pressure building in his throat and behind his eyes.

“Woah, hey, Yurio… Y-Yuri. What’s wrong?”

Yuuri reached out to place his hand on Yurio’s arm, but the blonde viciously knocked it away. He hid his face in his hands as another ugly sob escaped him. “Go… away!” He forced out, slipping into Russian in his distress. He was about to repeat himself, but the vehemence in his voice must have made his wishes clear. That, or Viktor was teaching his fiance Russian. Yuri didn’t care at this point. He just wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t often that he cried any more, and he absolutely hated it. He hated feeling so weak and helpless. He hated the way everyone treated him like a kid and tried to coddle him. It made him angry, but when he was this upset, that just made him cry even more.

\-------

“Viktor! Viktor, something’s wrong!”

The Russian woke to a very distressed Yuuri shaking him awake. In his half-asleep state, he was about to pull the man to his chest and cuddle away his fears, but then he remembered what had happened before he went to bed.

“What happened? Is Yurachka alright?”

“W-well, he’s awake, and coherent I think. But…”

“But what? Yuuri, tell me.”

The man looked shaken, as though he’d seen something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. “He started crying.”

Oh. Yes, that was definitely something that warranted such a reaction. Viktor frowned, trying to figure out what could have possibly caused the boy to break down, and what to do about it. He hadn’t been expecting something like this. He really was bad at dealing with crying people. The man got up and threw on a shirt, about to head upstairs to check on Yurio, but he was stopped by a hand in his own.

“I think he wants to be alone, Viktor. He told me to get out. We should probably wait until the morning, give him time to calm down, don’t you think?”

“Da, that’s a good idea Yuuri. What would I ever do without you?”

\-------

Yurio had locked the door to his room and blocked it with a few pieces of furniture, just in case anyone tried to bother him. He was glad he did, because in the morning Viktor came knocking on his door trying to talk to him. The blonde was silent for once in his life, simply waiting the man out until he finally went away. Or so he thought.

After a while of silence, Viktor’s voice filtered through the door. It sounded like he was sitting down, probably with his back to the thin wood. “Yura, your coach told me how you seemed off when I went to Japan, and when you came back. Yakov was very worried about you. I am too. If you would just talk to someone, I’m sure we could help you. Please, Yurachka, we just want what’s best for you…”

Yuri gritted his teeth. Of course Viktor didn’t understand why he was upset. Did he even realize that the blonde was mad at him? That his fucking meddling was just making things worse? Or did he just think it was some bad mood? He probably chalked it up to stupid teenage hormones. Yurio got up out of bed and walked over to the door. He knew Viktor heard the old floorboards squeak under his feet, and he revelled in the idea that the man’s hopes were up that he would come out and there would be some kind of special heart to heart or some bullshit. Because all he did was punch the wall with a loud thud. Fortunately he’d guessed right where the stud would be, so he only cracked the siding, most of the damage going to his fist. He didn’t care about that, though. The throbbing pain in his knuckles distracted him from that feeling of being wound up tight and ready to break in two. It was nearly at the point of physical pain, and he kept punching the stud until his fists were scratched and bleeding and he’d finally worn himself out.

\-------

Yuri had isolated himself for most of the day, not even venturing downstairs to find food. He considered this a battle of willpower now. He didn’t care if he was being childish. Part of him just didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. The other part wanted to see what lengths the others would go to to try and get to him. Viktor came up to try and talk to him again, as well as Yuuri, but he refused to answer each time. Mari claimed she’d left some food by the door, but the blonde didn’t dare check and see if that were true. He sulked in bed until his phone buzzed with a text message.

Yurio checked his phone skeptically, expecting to have gotten a message from Yakov or Viktor. He was pleasantly surprised to see Otabek’s name on his screen. He unlocked his phone and read the message, some of his tension that had been building throughout the day relieved.

_Otabek: Just heard that you had to leave Russia. Where are you? Are you okay?_

_Yuri: I’m in Japan with Viktor and Katsudon_

_Otabek: And are you okay?_

_Yuri: …_

_Otabek: What’s wrong?_

Yuri tried to answer a few times, but nothing he typed out seemed right. Every time he tried his message got too long, and the screen blurred as tears obscured his vision. 

_Yura: :/_

He waited eagerly for Otabek to reply, only to be startled when his phone started ringing. It was Otabek again, and Yuri quickly gathered his nerves to answer. “Da?”

_“I’ve seen what people are saying about us,”_ Otabek started, speaking in Russian with Yuri. _“It’s stupid that speculations like that are giving you so many problems, and I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.”_

Yuri was stunned into silence for a moment. He definitely wasn’t used to being apologized to. _“Beky, it’s not your fault. It’s those stupid Yuri’s Angels. And my government. And…”_ He sighed heavily, more emotion in that exhalation of air than he could probably ever put into words.

_“I know, but I feel partly responsible, and the last thing I want is for you to be mad at me. You know I value our friendship more than anything, Yura.”_

_“Yeah, I know.”_

_“So, why did Yakov send you to Japan, anyways? Seems a little far.”_

Yuri was slightly energized by the new topic. He wasn’t good with feelings, as his current self-imposed siege could attest to. _“That’s what I thought! Yakov said Viktor owed him a favor, but I have no idea what that even means. I think the old man is just the only person he could get to babysit me that wouldn’t complain too much.”_

_“Are you keeping up with training? How is Yakov coaching you from halfway across the world?”_

_“He’s not. Viktor is. Or trying to, at least. I can’t train under that man, Beky. He doesn’t know what he’s doing at all! And whenever he says anything, I just want to punch him in the fucking mouth! He just… gets under my skin, and I can’t stand it!”_ Yuri was panting by the end of his rant, and he was pretty sure the sound of his foot making contact with the wall was audible over the phone line.

_“Are you sure everything’s okay Yura?”_

Yuri’s breath caught in his throat. He’d hoped the soft sniff he’d made hadn’t gone over the phone line, but Otabek must have heard that too. He was silent for a long while, fighting the pressure behind his eyes that threatened tears. He could hear the feedback of his heavy breathing on Otabek’s end, and the older boy repeated his name with even more concern. _“Nyet,”_ he finally whimpered. _“Nothing is okay. I want to go home, but I don’t have one any more! I want to sleep in my own room, and I want to celebrate my birthday with Grandad like we do every year, but I’m stuck at this stupid hot spring with someone who abandoned me for that fucking pork cutlet bowl instead! And I don’t even know if I’ll be able to return to Russia before the Worlds. What if I can’t? Will I still be able to skate? Beky, what if my career is over because of some stupid fucking rumors? I don’t know what to do if I’m not skating. I'm not done, I wanted to do so much more!”_

He was crying again, and he could hear Otabek shushing him, but it sounded faint and far away.

_“Hey, hey, shhh, it’ll be okay, Yurachka. Everything will work out in the end, okay? You just gotta have patience. It’s only been two days, right? I know you’re scared, but try to just wait it out. Hell, knowing you, you could probably intimidate the committee into letting you skate without a national affiliation.”_

Yuri chuckled, sniffling and trying to stop the hiccups that racked his chest. _“Thanks, Beky.”_

_“By the way, your Grandfather says hi, and that he’s sorry he couldn’t say goodbye before you had to leave. He’s sending me over with something special for you, said he couldn’t ship it with the rest of your things.”_

The blonde tried to muddle through what his friend was saying, frowning in confusion. Then it finally hit him. _“What!? I can't believe you were going to visit me for my birthday! Otabek, I… fuck, I wasn’t there to welcome you… I’m such a shitty friend.”_ Seriously, what was with him and the waterworks today? Yuri hadn’t cried like this in years. He wasn’t sure he could even remember the last time he’d had an emotional breakdown. It was probably when he was like nine or something. _“You know you don’t have to come here just for me, Beka. It’s not even… I mean I don’t live here.”_

_“It sounds like you could use the company,”_ was Otabek’s simple response. He stayed on the line while Yuri tried to calm himself down, telling the blonde about the meal Nikolai had made for him when he arrived, and what he hadn’t realized he’d missed about St. Petersburg. Before he hung up, he made Yuri promise that he’d go get something to eat, and step outside for a few minutes. Yuri wasn’t certain it would make him feel better, but he promised anyways.

Of course, he’d forgotten about the shitshow that was waiting for him outside of his room. The blonde opened the door to his hosts sitting at the bottom of the stairs, talking together on the phone with who he assumed was Yakov. His sour mood returned at the looks he was given, full of sympathy and regret.

“We didn’t realize it was your birthday, Yurio…”

The Russian punk snarled, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared down at Yuuri. He didn’t want to hear anything from the young man right now, or he knew he would explode at him. His hurt and anger came rushing back with a white hot heat that could probably burn him alive if he gave in to it. And of course, Yuuri had to start opening his mouth to add on to what he was saying. Yurio cut him off before he could finish inhaling to speak, having no time for whatever bullshit excuse he would no doubt try and make.

“Don’t fuckng talk to me, you second-rate swine! I don’t want to hear your excuses, or your apologies, or anything! I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking voice! Just go back to whatever you fucking do when you don’t have to take care off bratty punks like me and stay. Away. From. Me!”

The tray Mari had left by his door was still there, and while the food under the little bamboo cover must have been cold by now, Yurio grabbed it and dragged it inside with him. No way in hell was he getting within a meter of those two right now. He intended on sending a picture of his meal to Otabek to explain the situation, but he paused when he uncovered the little tray. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t a bowl of borscht with a healthy dollop of sour cream, some surprisingly delicious mashed potatoes, and a glass of milk. No Japanese spin, just the simple flavors of home. Yuri was starting to appreciate Mari a lot. The woman looked like a rebel, but she was really a saint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically I'd use italics to indicate who's on the other line of the phone, but I am not a master in linguistics, and am barely past the first level of courses for Russian on duolingo, so no way in hell am I gonna go writing in Russian! You'll just have to deal with the italics indicating a language shift. Expect more of it, because I personally headcanon that Yurio slips into Russian a lot when he's angry or upset. He just automatically starts thinking in it, so it's what comes out of his mouth.


	4. Puma Tiger Scorpion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I write pretty much an entire chapter of fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that Yurio named his cat Puma Tiger Scorpion? Because I had to look it up for this chapter, and it's fucking great!!! Never change, you little punk. Also, if you couldn't tell, I too am a fan of cats, especially their breeding and genetics. If only I didn't cough up a lung every time I was around them.
> 
> I apologize for not replying to comments, as well. I have pretty bad social anxiety, and I just don't want to stress myself out responding to people. I do read all of your comments, though, and they mean a lot to me. Consider each new chapter a thank you for your input ^.^

Yuri had managed to convince Viktor to let him practice alone the day after his birthday. It had been surprisingly easy. The blonde hadn’t even had to resort to shouting to try and feel heard. He shook thoughts of his former idol out of his mind, focusing on his posture and footwork instead. His heart just wasn’t in it, though, and he couldn’t seem to get anything right. He went in for his signature salchow, but lost his balance on the landing and fell to the ice. He felt his cheeks burn with too many emotions to name, and was particularly glad that no one was there to see him like this. The Russian rested his cheek on the ice where he had fallen, heaving a sigh like a defeated beast. This failure just seemed the last blow he could handle. He was done.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by three shrill voices. They assaulted his ears and forced him to push himself up, more in embarrassment than anything else.

“Oh my god, Yurio’s hurt!”

“Yuri’s Angels need to know about this!”

“I’m totally posting this online!”

Yuuko came running from the front doors of the rink and grabbed a phone from one of her daughter’s hands, scolding the three rather severely in Japanese. One was sniffling by the end, and the other two burst out in tears. Yuri stood and glided over, eyes trained on the phone in Yuuko’s hands.

“Don’t worry, I’m deleting the video now. I can’t believe how I could have possibly raised three girls who don’t understand the idea of privacy.” Yuuko gave her daughters a harsh glare, sending them running all the way out of the building. Yuri sighed heavily and went to sit on a bench, yanking off his skates in defeat.

“Umm, Yurio, I’m here because there’s someone who wants to come see you. I… thought it would be best to warn you before anyone intruded on your practice.”

Yuri looked up, then followed Yuuko’s gaze to the entrance to the Ice Castle Hasetsu. Standing just outside was Otabek, an animal carrier balanced in one hand. The blonde felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He was frozen in place for a moment, until Otabek stepped inside. He realized he was running for the boy, and only barely stopped himself from tackling his friend when he saw another familiar face through the bars of the carrier.

“Potya!! My God, Otabek, you… and Grandad…”

The blonde realized he had the distinct urge to kiss the boy in front of him, and pulled back just a bit. He was startled by the thought, and confused. He quickly pulled Otabek into a hug instead, forgetting his frustration and depression for at least a moment.

“He asked if I could bring her to you safely, so of course I said yes. I didn’t interrupt practice, did I?”

Yuri shook his head, feeling his mood immediately lift. “No, I wasn’t getting anywhere anyways. Can we let her out? I’m sure my little Tiger is tired of being all cramped in that little cage.” He looked to Yuuko, who begrudgingly nodded her head.

The Russian sat back down by his skates, letting his cat out of her carrier and twining his fingers through her fur. She immediately headbutted his hand and started purring, letting him pick her up and cradle her. It was one of the rare times Yuri could be seen actually being gentle with something. He chuckled softly when his cat started licking his face, glancing over to Otabek.

“Thank you, again, for bringing her. And yourself. I mean, eeh…” The Russian frowned, finding it awkward to speak casually. His frown only deepened when Otabek started laughing.

“I understand, Yura. I can only imagine how tough it’s been for you. And with Worlds hanging over your head…”

Otabek paused, realizing he might not want to go down that path. There was an awkward silence for a bit, both boys trying to figure out how to proceed under the circumstances, and with so much to catch up on.

“You know, I never got to celebrate your birthday with you. Aah, all my plans are a little useless now, since we’re not in St. Pete. I was going to get us a bottle of Vodka and get you wasted.” The raven chuckled, a mischievous smirk playing across his lips. Yuri kicked him gently, rolling his eyes.

“And yet everyone thinks I’m the only punk on the ice. You’re such a bad influence, Otabek!”

“Oh don't tell me you wouldn’t love it. Anything to make Yakov mad. I would bet money that you’d upload videos to your instagram.”

“Would not!” Yuri protested a little too quickly. He totally would, though, as his flushed cheeks indicated. Otabek pinched his nose, causing Yuri to squeak indignantly. “What was that for!?”

“I could have sworn I saw your nose growing, you liar.”

The two chuckled together, and it was the first time Yuri had felt this good in days. Being able to laugh was nice, and he never wanted this moment to end. But at some point he had to get up and head back to the hot springs. If not to make sure Viktor didn't come looking for him, then at least so he could get Potya settled in his room. Otabek offered to help carry her back, and how could the Russian refuse? They talked about everything and nothing on the way back to the inn, and Yuri had almost forgotten about the whole Viktor situation.

The man was sitting in the main room, watching baseball with a few of the regular customers of the hot springs. He looked over and greeted Yuri and Otabek warmly, but the stupid smile on his face just made the blonde pissed. He felt a hand wrap around his own, dragging him away from the confrontation that was bound to happen, and down the hall.

“Don’t forget Potya,” Otabek muttered in his ear. Yuri nodded and led the way upstairs, not dropping Otabek’s hand once. He let his cat out of her cage once again, and found a few boxes that must have come in the mail while he was at practice. A litter box and Puma’s bed were included along with Yuri’s clothes and a few other possessions. The blonde reminded himself to thank his grandfather when he had the chance as he set everything up. 

While he did, Otabek made himself at home. The raven laid down on Yuri’s bed, the cat jumping onto his chest and laying down, effectively trapping him. “She seems to have taken a liking to me. I think it’s just because I was with her on the plane, though.” Yuri looked over, smiling at the sight of his cat and his friend together.

“Nyet. Most people think that. That she’ll be… unfriendly. But Ragdolls are very kind and loving cats. They were bred to love attention and be easy to handle, and most cats with the colorpoint patterns are very sociable. So combining the two makes one of the friendliest animals you'll meet.”

Otabek was stroking Potya’s head, smirking. “Gee, I wonder why anyone would think she might be prickly and… unfriendly, as you put it.” His sarcastic tone had Yurio puffing out his cheeks in a pout. The raven chuckled and shook his head. “I’m just teasing, Yura. You sure do know a lot about cats, though. It’s impressive.”

“Da, well, they are my favorite animal. I’ve loved them since I was a kid. You know I tried to feed all the strays around the old apartment complex I lived in with Grandad?” The blonde sat down on the bed as well, scratching Potya’s butt, causing her to lift her tail and then her entire rear end. “Elevator butt… heh, you can imagine how mad the landlord got when we were overrun with cats. Especially since no pets were allowed.”

There was silence, and Yuri glanced over to make sure Otabek was alright. The raven was staring at him, a huge smirk pulling at his lips.

“What is it?”

“Has anyone told you you’re absolutely adorable? Because I’m pretty sure I just got to see a side of the famous Russian Punk that no one has ever before witnessed.”

Yuri’s eyes widened, and he could feel his blush creeping up his cheeks centimeter by centimeter. To cover his embarrassment, he quickly grabbed the pillow from underneath Otabek and smacked the boy’s face with it. “Shut up! You tell anyone and I swear I will never speak to you again!”

Otabek grabbed the pillow, stopping Yuri from smacking him again. He tucked it under his arm, grabbing a second pillow that had been knocked to the floor the night before, and tossing it right at the side of Yurio’s head. “You would. You’d be too lonely if you didn’t have someone to text whenever you wanted to complain about something.”

“Would not! I could just vent online! I could make a whole blog about how Otabek Altin sucks because he said I was cute and is a total liar!”

Yuri tugged at his own pillow, but to no avail. It was securely tucked under Otabek’s strong arm. He finally gave up and tried to steal the second pillow, but the raven just used the first as more ammunition. He finally gave up, falling onto his back on the bed in a fit of laughter. “Okay, okay, I give up! Stop! Stop!”

The two collapsed in a heap on the bed, panting and chuckling. Yuri felt his heart beating rapidly, and he somehow knew it wasn’t because of the exertion of their pillow fight. Otabek was laying over one of his legs, and the contact made his skin tingle. It was the same feeling as he’d had at the rink, and Yuri couldn’t make sense of it. He pushed the thought aside, scooting over so there were a few centimeters of space between them on the bed. To his relief Potya, who had run away at the first blow, jumped up between them and laid down again, kneading her paws into Yuri’s side and making his move feel less awkward.

“Why are you so upset with Viktor all the time?” Otabek hummed after the two had laid in silence for a while. Yuri flinched visibly, turning his gaze to the opposite wall. His friend reached over and rubbed his shoulder, and though the blonde wasn’t looking, he could feel the sympathetic gaze on him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. I’m just curious.”

The Russian sighed heavily. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share his feelings with Otabek. He just couldn’t think about the silver-haired man without his limbs shaking in anger, jealousy, betrayal… too many emotions for him to process. “Not now,” he muttered through gritted teeth. He felt the raven’s thumb making soothing circles over the joint between his arm and collar bone, and the small touch meant the world to him in that moment.

\-------

Yuri felt reinvigorated at the next day’s practice. The crushing weariness he’d felt the day before had been lifted, and with Otabek there on the ice with him, the blonde felt even more motivated to show off his original choreography. Otabek was doing some simple freestyle moves, to keep from getting rusty, he claimed. But Yuri noticed more and more as he went through his steps that the raven was spending most of his time standing still off to the side. Knowing that the Khazakstani was watching him with such awe had Yuri feeling like he could fly.

“Otlichno, you’re doing much better today Yurio!”

Yuri’s mood crashed right back down to earth, and he paused with his back to Viktor. He wanted nothing more than to start yelling at the man, but something held him back. He noticed that Otabek was studying him like a beautiful but dangerous wild animal, and the raven’s words from the night before rang in his mind.

“Why are you so upset with Viktor all the time?”

The blonde took a deep breath and let it out slowly, envisioning his frustrations floating away with the cloud of condensation from his mouth. He went back to skating, blatantly ignoring Viktor’s words of encouragement. He could manage not starting a one sided shouting match every time he was in the same room, but not giving Viktor the cold shoulder was asking a little much.

“You’re doing very well, Yuri. You have the technical aspect perfect, and I can see the emotions you’re trying to convey, but I don’t quite feel them yet. You should think about what your routine means to you, and how you can make your audience feel that passion.”

Yurio took off his skates and slouched on the bench he’d taken up, rolling his eyes with a huff. “When are you going to stop pretending to be my coach, old man?” He thought he caught a glimmer of hurt in Viktor’s eyes, but he ignored it. The older Russian was too carefree to take anything Yuri said seriously, to take anything seriously.

“But I am your coach, silly keesa-chan.”

Yuri visibly shuddered at the bastardization of Russian and Japanese. “What. The fuck. Did you just call me?”

“Do you like it? Yuri is teaching me some Japanese. Chan is an honorific used for small, cute things and…”

“I know that much you old geezer! Why the hell are you mixing two languages!? Ugh, I can’t even be in the same room as you. I’ll start to smell like embarrassment.”

Viktor threw his head back and laughed, and it was at that point Yuri realized the man had been trying to get on his nerves on purpose. The interaction was foreign to him, and he couldn’t decide whether to smile or punch his temporary coach in the face. He looked to Otabek for help, but the raven just gave him a sympathetic shrug.

“Anyways,” Viktor hummed as he wiped tears of laughter from under his eyes. “You and Otabek must want some more time to catch up. I know I don’t have to remind you to stretch, but I am going to tell you to anyways. I don’t want to hear you complaining about being stiff tomorrow.”

The silver haired man got up and went to put on his own skates. He must be anxious to get some time on the ice, Yuri realized. He hadn’t heard anything about Viktor’s plans to compete next season, what with being barred from his home country, but he was probably still choreographing for Yuuri’s Worlds program.

Yurio sighed and glanced at Otabek. The raven could no doubt see the conflict on his face, and smiled softly. “Go ahead and stretch. Maybe I’ll join you. Lord knows I need it.” The two of them chuckled softly, and Yuri set out his mat in a secluded spot of the skating rink, sitting down to start working his legs. He and Otabek chatted a bit, but mostly they sat in a comfortable silence, with the quiet undertone of Yuri’s music, distorted by his phone’s speaker. The blonde would glance over at his friend every so often, feeling his stomach flutter whenever they made eye contact. He glanced over at the ice once, as he held his leg in a stretch above his head. Viktor was skating without music, looking almost lost. Yuri wondered what the man was thinking of, but pushed away the sympathy that stood at the edges of his mind. Viktor had done too much to deserve such emotions from him.


	5. Ты не мой папа (You're not my dad)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor actually has some pov text.

_“You want me to what!?”_

Viktor winced mentally at the screech from Yurio’s room. He sighed and continued past the stairs to the attic on his way to the kitchen. Yuri’s mother was there, preparing breakfast for the family and any guests who might stop in early today. The man sniffed appreciatively at the aroma coming from the various pots and pans, but he couldn’t quite muster up his usual enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong, Viktor?” Mrs. Katsuki glanced over her shoulder as she cooked, her keen eye seeming to bore straight through the silver haired man.

“Is keen observation something you are gifted with once you become a parent?” Viktor quipped back. “If so, then I am very much out of luck. I cannot seem to figure out what’s wrong with Yurio. These past few days as his coach have been… tense, to say the least.”

Hiroko set down her long cooking chopsticks on a small plate to catch the drips of sauce and oil, then turned whatever she was cooking down to a simmer before sitting at the table across from Viktor. “It’s more something you learn as the years go by. When you start to worry that your kids are keeping something from you, or that they might not feel like they can talk to you. It will depend on the child, but if you really want to help, you’ll find the right way. You would think Mari would have been our problem child, but once you asked her what was wrong she would always end up bawling like a baby about her problems, no matter how old she got.” Yuri’s mother chuckled, the same fond laughter any mother had when talking about her children. “Yuri was another story all together. He would insist he was fine, even when his grades and performances started suffering. I finally found that if I let him know that I was always there for him, and he could come to me for anything, he would talk to me when he was ready.”

“Da, but Yuri and Yurio are entirely different personalities. Anxiety and self doubt are easy enough to work with. I don’t know what to do when being in the same room makes Yurio lash out at me.”

Mrs. Katsuki got up when she heard her pot start to boil aggressively. She wrapped her hand in her apron and lifted it off the heat, stirring the contents vigorously. “It seems to me he might be in pain,” the woman finally hummed. “Or else he might not feel like he can talk to you.”

Victor hummed, mulling over that thought for a while. Dishes appearing in front of him roused the man out of his thoughts, and he offered to gather the family for breakfast. He paused when he went outside to call Yuri in from his training. His fiance picked up bad habits in the off season, but he was making marked progress on his weight again. The raven was huffing and puffing after an early morning run, which Viktor probably should have joined him on, if he was honest.

“You’re doing well, Yuri. Go inside and eat, we can take the rest of the day off if you want.” Yuri turned his head, smiling at the sight of Viktor. That smile still melted the man’s heart, and he padded over to help his lover up.

“You… huff… seem distracted…” Yuri panted. He frowned when Viktor couldn’t think of a witty response in time. “What’s wrong? Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Viktor sighed, feeling his age weigh heavily on his shoulders. Why didn’t it seem to come with the experience he needed to make the right decisions? “I need help talking to Yurio. I… think the problem isn’t with him not listening. I think it’s me. I’ve really made a mess of things.”

Yuri had stepped closer as he spoke, and took his hand gently. He felt the metal of Yuri’s ring on his flesh, not as chilly as usual due to the raven wearing it on his run. His own band, by contrast, must be a sharp bite of cold on Yuri’s palm. “I can try to help. But do you think it will actually work? We’ve been trying this whole time, and he just gets more and more upset.”

“I think I know what I’ve been doing wrong,” Viktor muttered.

\-------

Yuri covered his face with a hand, breathing heavily as he paced his room. It had been a whole week since he had been sent to Japan, and only a day since Otabek had left for home. He’d desperately wanted to kiss the boy before he left, and he could no longer deny that his feelings for the skater were more complicated than simple friends.

The blonde threw his phone onto the bed, aiming carefully to avoid breaking it again. Yakov had just called him, trying to convince him to stage a fake relationship with Mila of all people to clear his name! He wasn’t even sure why that made him so angry, but it did. He tried to blame it on disgust, since the woman was like an older sister to him, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason. Potya hopped onto the bed beside his discarded phone and meowed. The small noise never failed to make Yuri smile, and he flopped next to his cat, pulling her into his arms. Her incessant purring helped calm him down a little, but the boy knew he would have to face this problem eventually.

Yuri was broken from his cuddle session by a knock at his door, and Viktor’s voice calling to him. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes and let out a groan. Potya placed her paw on his cheek, and he had to admit, he couldn’t stay mad when he actually got the chance to kiss her little toe beans. The only time Potya was a diva was when he tried to trim her claws, or really touch her paws at all. He scooped her up and cradled her in one arm as he opened the door, donning his usual pissy expression.

“What do you want?”

Viktor looked tired. It caught Yurio off guard. At first he thought the man hadn’t gotten enough sleep, but that didn’t seem quite right. Viktor always slept like a baby, after all. “I want to talk. Or, rather, I want to listen.”

Yurio stood there for a moment, staring at the man, dumbfounded. He realized Yuri was standing behind his fiance, and that immediately had his guard up. “What do you mean?”

“I want to know what’s wrong. Why you’re so angry. I’m here, Yurio.”

Potya jumped out of Yurio’s arms when she felt him tensing up. He noticed that Yuri had his hand on Viktor’s back, and an image of Otabek flashed unbidden into his mind. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth around the seething anger that seemed ready to burst out of him.

“You want to know why I’m angry!? Maybe it’s because I’ve been kicked out of my home because of some stupid rumors! And then I had to fly to a strange country and live with two people I can't stand to be around. And one of them thinks he’s my dad _and_ my coach! And he doesn't even realize how easy he has it, either!” Oh no. He couldn't stop. Yurio stepped forward, the force of his anger making Viktor step back. He’d been stewing over this for months, and it was finally bursting from his mouth like word vomit. Yuri was so angry he slipped back into his native tongue, ranting at Viktor in unbroken Russian.

_“I looked up to you! Yuri isn’t the only person who idolized you! I wanted to be just like you, and I was so excited to have you choreograph my short program for my debut! Not only would I be skating a program created just for me by my idol, I would be skating to a routine created by Russia’s top figure skater! Do you know how much my stipend would have increased!? Grandad wouldn’t even need to work at the bakery any more! He could finally go back into retirement, and maybe I could convince him to go to the doctor for his back! But you forgot! You forgot the moment you saw a hot piece of ass, and you ran off to Japan when it was time to make good on your promise! Then not only did you create a routine for me that was paired with another one for a rival country, you didn’t even train me on it!_ I _put in the work to make that short program a winner against everyone else competing!_ I _was the one who pushed myself onto the pedestal my first year in the senior division!_ I’m _the one who never gets to take time off, or else my family can't make ends meet! I don’t get to go chasing boys halfway around the world just because I think they’re cute, because unlike some people, I have responsibility, and I realized a long time ago that life isn’t some fairy tale. If you want anything you have to work for it, and you have to be willing to make sacrifices! Unless you happen to be Viktor Nikiforov, who gets everything he wants and more just landing in his lap out of pure chance!”_

Yuri stopped suddenly, choked by the tears burning the back of his throat. He sniffled, feeling more than a little ridiculous. He must seem like a little kid to the men standing in front of him, getting angry then immediately bursting into tears. He caught the look of hurt on Viktor’s face, and guilt swamped over him. He was terrified when he realized that he actually felt better knowing the man had been upset by his words.

“Yurio, I…”

“Don’t call me that,” the blonde hissed. “I hate that nickname _so_ much.”

Yuri closed the door on the two, collapsing against it and burying his head in his hands. Not even Potya rubbing against his legs could make him feel better now. He felt his chest constricting around sobs that threatened to make themselves audible. He must be a monster, to say those things, but he hadn’t been able to keep them buried any longer.

\-------

Viktor had been more than a little upset when he first heard how Yurio was feeling. He had worked hard for his position, and of course he deserved time off. Of course he deserved to find love. But the more he thought about it from Yurio’s point of view, the more things made sense. Yuri helped point it out. The blonde had felt abandoned and jealous. That was why he couldn’t stand being around the two. He came from such a different background, neither of them had even thought that he might have struggled so much to get where he was.

Viktor had definitely fucked up, and now he had to figure out how to make it up to Yurio. He had shut down his apology immediately, and Viktor couldn't blame the kid. He probably expected excuses or jokes. It was how the older Russian tended to diffuse situations, after all. The next morning he waited for Yurio to come down for breakfast. When the clock read noon and the ice tiger hadn’t shown his face, Viktor started getting worried. He went up to Yurio’s door, a feeling in his gut telling him something was very wrong.

The Russian threw open the door to the room, expecting the worst, only to find nothing. All of Yurio’s things were gone. The room felt too empty, with no teenager brooding in it. Viktor felt his heart beating out of his chest with worry as he started thinking of all the things that could have happened. All the things Yurio could have done.


	6. Every Real Man Has a Beard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I actually write a little Victor/Yuuri. Also Yurio _finally_ admits he's gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least in the past, "beard" was a term for the wife or girlfriend of a gay man, who was kept around specifically for the purpose of keeping up a public appearance of the man in question being straight.

Yuri arrived at the St. Petersburg airport around midnight. It was one in the morning by the time he was home and had let Potya out of her carrier. He flopped into bed, setting an alarm for early the next morning. He was exhausted when he walked into Yakov's rink later in the morning, and it must have shown. His coach was speechless for a moment, staring down the boy in front of him. Yuri kept his head high, glaring back at his coach, even though he was certain the effect was diminished by the dark circles under his eyes. Finally Yakov snorted and stepped aside, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"You have no idea how much work you've just made for me, do you, brat?"

Yuri went to the benches and dropped his bag. That was hardly the scolding he'd been expecting, but he would take it as long as it meant he could get back to skating sooner. The blonde stepped out onto the ice, taking a deep breath of the frigid air. Somehow the rinks in Russia seemed colder than the Ice Castle in Japan. It was something about the light, and how the air felt thinner at the higher latitude. It felt like home.

The Ice Fairy blocked out his fellow rinkmates all through practice. He was focused on skating, on landing his jumps and every single technical aspect of his routine. Somehow he managed not to crash into anyone, even though he was skating as though he were already at a competition. He was left panting as he took off his boots, feeling the blood rushing to his face now that he wasn’t on the ice. His nose always dripped after a particularly hard practice, and he always hated it. Of course, Mila had to sit next to him as he was sniffling to try and make his runny nose go away, and he caught her soft frown.

“Yuri, is everything okay? Yakov told me everything, and I agreed to help, but… are you sure it’s safe for you here?”

The blonde groaned, wondering how long it would be before his eyes popped out of his skull from rolling them. “Da, I’m fine. We’ll go on a date, and there will probably be headlines about how Russia’s Ice Tiger is dating a cougar or some bullshit.”

Mila puffed out her cheeks in indignation. Yurio figured it was because of his jab at her age, but he definitely saw more than insult in her expression. Was she actually trying to get him to open up about everything that had happened in the past week? What was it with everyone trying to be all feels-ey with him lately? He mentally shrugged it off, tossing his skates in his bag and heading towards the door. When he looked back, Mila was still sitting on the bench, studying him. “Are you coming or what, grandma?”

“Coming. But if I’m going to be your girlfriend, you’ll need to think up some prettier pet names. I know, how about you call me _lisichka_!”

Yuri curled his lip, but let the expression of disgust fade with a soft groan and another roll of his eyes. “Da, are you ready, _lisichka_?” Mari followed him with a small frown, which vanished with the ease of someone used to performing as soon as they walked through the doors and onto the street.

Yuri led the way through the streets of St. Petersburg, Mila following on his right side. If he was honest, he had no clue where he was going. He loved wandering the streets of any city he found himself in. It reminded him of when he would run away as a kid. He'd leave with a backpack full of snacks and a blanket, intending to rough it on the streets of Moscow, and end up back home sniffling when he got scared or it started getting dark. He really hadn't explored St. Petersburg much, either. Between practice and travelling to competitions, he just hadn't had the time.

The two young skaters stopped at a street crossing, waiting for their signal, when a biker rode up to the yellow light and set his foot down to stop. The familiar sound of the motorcycle's engine brought back memories of Barcelona, and a certain young man with dark hair and eyes the color of a black cup of coffee. Mari slipped her hand into Yuri's, jolting him from his memories. The green walking man had flashed to life, and she led Yuri across the street. A gaggle of younger girls behind them caught his attention, and he strained to catch what they were saying as they followed him and Mari across the street.

“Oh my gosh, is that Yurachka?”

“It is! I thought he was in Japan! Do you think that was a ruse?”

“I dunno, but who’s that? Oh no, is she holding his hand?”

“How could he betray my heart like that? I was going to be his wife!”

“In your dreams. _I'm_ going to marry him!"

Yuri grit his teeth, trying not to look disgusted at the snippet of conversation he'd overheard. He bristled when he heard the sound of a phone's camera snapping a picture of them. He was about to turn around and start yelling when Mila squeezed his hand gently. Her expression said everything. If these were fans, they would get the word out faster than anyone. This was what they wanted, after all. To have people believe they were dating. The redhead pulled Yuri into a small cafe they passed, leading him to a table so they could get something to eat. The group of girls hung around outside the window for a bit before finally moving along. Yuri felt a little sick, thinking about the Yuris Angels fanclub. He should probably be ecstatic about having so many girls fawn over him, but it just made him so uncomfortable.

\-------

“He’s back in St. Petersburg,” Viktor sighed, slumping in his chair. Yuuri leaned over Viktor’s shoulder to inspect the computer screen, and the webpage Yuuko’s girls had pulled up. It was cute the way he pulled his glasses down to squint at the street signs in the picture. “I recognize those streets," Viktor hummed. "They’re not far from Yakov’s rink. But why would he leave without saying anything? I thought we were making progress, but I just chased him away again.”

Viktor sighed heavily, trying to curb his annoyance with the boy. It was too easy to blame Yurio for being moody and unresponsive, and that was the last thing he wanted to do when the blonde was probably just hurting. One of the triplets, Axle if he wasn't mistaken, climbed onto Viktor’s lap, zooming in on the picture of Yurio.

“Hey, is he holding that girl’s hand? Who is that?”

“It looks like Mila Babicheva. They train at the same rink.”

“Wow, she is not his type at all.”

“What would you say is his type, then?” Viktor hummed, lifting the little girl off his lap so he could stand. Her sisters rushed to take his spot, all trying to analyze the picture at the same time.

“Tall, dark, and Kazakhstani,” Lutz stated, rather matter-of-fact. Her sisters nodded in agreement. “It’s plain as day the way they look at each other. Guys, we have to get on reddit and see what the Russians are saying. If they're saying anything against our ship we have to shut it down."

“On it.” The three spoke in unison, and began typing away. Viktor left with Yuuri to head to the Ice Castle, the Russian looking up at the sky in thought.

“I know that look, what are you thinking about?” Yuuri nudged Viktor’s elbow with his own, dark eyes seeing through his cheery facade. This was the man he was going to marry in only a few months, and he couldn’t be happier about that. But despite the prospect of being wed to the love of his life, he couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness.

“I guess I’m a little homesick,” he admitted. “Having Yuri-...” Viktor caught himself before he completed the -o at the end of the nickname, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Having him here was like a bit of home, you know? That’s probably selfish, isn’t it? I guess he really was right about me.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri, his Yuuri, grabbed the Russian’s hand from his coat pocket, holding onto it tightly. “You are an amazing person. You’re charismatic, and really easy to get along with. You’re also an amazing skater, but you never let that get the best of you. Just because you have a few flaws doesn’t make you a bad person. You helped me realize that about myself, but you need to know it holds true for you, as well. You’re never going to be perfect, but that’s okay.”

The raven’s dark eyes were shining with emotion, and Viktor couldn’t help but smile. He made a soft noise, tracing his free thumb across Yuuri’s cheek, under his glasses, to wipe away the beginnings of a tear. “There’s no need to cry, _bublik._ Thank you.”

The two shared a soft kiss, and Yuuri chuckled softly. “Look, I get really emotional sometimes. I’m just glad you think it’s cute.”

\-------

Yurio finally returned home after another “date” with Mila. He collapsed onto the couch in his living room, tossing an arm over his face to block out the lights. He thought going home would make him feel better, but it hadn’t. He felt empty again, even more so now that he couldn't openly wallow in his misery. He had to constantly be acting for eyes he wasn't even sure were watching him. Anyone could decide that he didn't look happy enough with Mila, and expose their fraud. Every stranger on the street was a potential spy, and the paranoia was finally starting to get to him. If he could just be normal, this would be so much easier. Why couldn't he genuinely like Mila as a girlfriend? He would have nothing to hide, nothing to worry about.

The blonde rolled over onto his side, curling up and tugging a blanket off the back of the couch. He wrapped it around himself like a little cocoon, feeling as though his chest were being crushed. Why did Viktor and Yuuri get to be happy? Why didn't they have to deal with this bullshit? And more importantly, why did thinking about their relationship fill him with such pure, burning envy? It made him want to scream and punch something because of how unfair it was. And yet it was that explosive trait of his that had probably doomed him to his current fate.

“You ruin everything, Yuri,” the blonde muttered to himself. He was startled out of his misery by his phone ringing, causing him to yelp and feel around for the device. The blonde shook for a moment, inspecting the number on his phone. It was Otabek. They hadn’t talked since the raven had left him in Japan. There was just too much to do, and he couldn't risk any more speculation. But there was no one here to judge him now. He swiped his screen to answer the call, injecting some false cheer into his voice. It was obvious that his friend could tell something was off, but he tried to ignore it.

“Hey, Beka. What’s up?”

“Uuh… I was wondering how you were doing. You haven’t been returning my texts lately. Is everything okay?”

“Da, everything’s great. My training for the World Championship is coming along well. Sorry for not texting you, I’ve just been busy getting ready, and whenever I’m not in the rink I’m with Mila.”

There was a tense silence. Yurio thought he heard his friend’s voice catch in his throat, but he wasn’t sure. He was too focused on trying to keep his composure and not let on that he was lying through his teeth.

“So… you really are dating her? You should have told me.”

Yuri felt his heart sink. Otabek sounded so upset. It was subtle, but he could tell the raven was trying to sound happy for him. Oh god, was that what he sounded like? No wonder Otabek was worried about him.

“I hope you two are happy together. At least no one can accuse you of being gay any more.” The raven barked out a harsh laugh that sounded like it was just barely hiding tears. If they could just talk face to face, this would be so much easier.

“It’s… that’s the point… She’s… It’s all fake, for the press.”

There was a long silence. Yuri had a hand over his mouth, trying to tilt the receiver away so Otabek wouldn’t pick up his heavy breathing. He heard his friend let out a shaky sigh on the other end of the line, and it made the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

“But do you, you know…?”

“I’m… not sure…” Another silence. Yuri couldn’t stand it. The quiet dug into him like claws and fangs, making his heart ache. “I know I don’t like Mila that way. And I don’t like the Yuri’s Angels fawning over me. I… feel sick every time I think about it. I don’t think I like girls.”

It was finally out. Now that he’d said it aloud, the blonde was freaking out. He had never given dating a second thought. He'd always scorned Georgi's obsession with his girlfriend, predicting that the distraction would lead to his career being mediocre at best. But he'd never really been aware that men had been an option. Not until Viktor and Yuuri announced their engagement. A rush of thoughts came unbidden to him, memories of how excited he was when Viktor or Otabek paid notice to him. He'd assumed it was because he admired them as skaters, but the Kazakhstani's visit to Japan had turned that assumption on his head. Yuri had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. Did that mean he'd had a crush on Viktor this entire time as well? Years of fawning over the man, of wanting to skate like him. His jealousy made so much more sense now. And the way Viktor looked at Yuuri... he wished someone would look at him like that.

Wait. When he’d blown up at Viktor a couple of weeks ago, he’d specifically mentioned chasing _men_ halfway around the globe. Yuri only just realized the slip he had made, and felt his heart come to a dead stop.

“...Yura? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, I... I need to go. I'll call you later, okay Beka?"

Yurio barely gave his friend time to offer a confused responsw, hanging up and immediately pulling up a web browser on his phone. He had something he needed to do now, and there was only a week to do it. After a few minutes he finally found what he was looking for, and downloaded the audio file to his phone.


	7. Just Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The World Championships are here. What is Yurio planning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Viktor's Exhibition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FPEwPpSyVE)
> 
> [Yurio's Short Program](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDeYCTka_6I)

Yuri kept his ear buds planted firmly in his ears, blasting the new music he’d downloaded a week ago. He could see Mari rolling her eyes for the millionth time as she walked beside him through the terminal in Helsinki. He hadn’t told anyone his plan, and everyone seemed annoyed by the sudden shift in behaviour.

Good. They deserved to be kept in the dark. The blonde could barely keep the secret to himself, though, and the strain of it was making him edgy. At least for his exhibition skate he had worked with Beka and could bounce ideas off his friend. But he couldn’t let Otabek in on this secret. Not yet. He couldn’t risk it.

Yuri jumped when Mari tapped his shoulder, gesturing to a group of people. All of a sudden there was a camera flash, and the redhead was hanging off of him like a common whore. Well, hanging off him would be difficult considering her freakish size. Mari was more hugging him to her chest and giving the paparazzi a charming smile while Yuri struggled to breath. He crinkled his nose in distaste as the gaggle of photographers continued to Yakov and the other Russian skaters as they exited their plane. His headphones had been dislodged by Mila’s boobs, and he wrapped them up around his wrist as he paused his music.

“Why do you have to make such a big fucking deal out of it? I thought we were going to be subtle.”

Mila pouted and ruffled Yuri’s hair. It felt more like he was her little brother rather than her boyfriend. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t seem to act like lovers. “Aww, I just can’t help myself when I’m around you, Yurio.”

Yuri stiffened, jaw clenching painfully. He shrugged off his annoyance with a grunt and outpaced Mila, keeping her out of his field of vision. He sped up even more when he spotted a familiar security guard. Yuri had no idea how long airport security kept up their searches for golf cart hijackers, but he wasn’t about to find out.

The wait for their luggage and a taxi was thankfully uneventful. Mila had dropped her act in favor of getting ready for her own competition, being Russia’s chosen candidate for the Women’s Singles. Each competitor had their own way of getting ready, and Mila’s was meditation. She sat quietly on the bench outside the airport, eyes closed, counting her breaths carefully.

Yuri preferred to immerse himself in the familiarity of travel. Sometimes he would blast his music, sometimes he would just sit with his headphones in and nothing playing, listening to the ambiance of a new city. The smell of luggage and car exhaust was always the same no matter where he went, and the bustle of a city could be both the same as any other, and completely unique at the same time.

Hotels, too, were a unique experience all their own. Yuri remembered his first few out of town competitions. They were only held in the next few towns over, and he and his Grandfather had taken a bus to get there. Yuri had known even then that staying at the cheap motel was well beyond what his Grandad could afford, but they had managed. He had skated his heart out and he’d taken third place. To think he had been so proud of that crappy bronze medal. Still, it had led to this moment.

Yuri checked his messages when he got to the hotel and signed in to the wifi. A few texts from Otabek, a bunch of instagram stories from fellow skaters. He decided to flip through his social media first. After scrolling through the general “Hello Helsinki” messages from too many people to count, Yuri went through his notifications and clicked his tongue. JJ had mentioned him in a photo of a dinged golf cart in the Helsinki International Airport.

_think I found the wreckage of @yuri_plisetsky.’s joyride._

Yuri growled through his nose, closing the app and pulling up his text messages. Otabek had sent him a message when he landed, letting Yuri know he was safe and what hotel he was staying at. It had become a habit between the two young men, and not just for competitions. They were chatting with each other so often that they missed the other’s presence during the long flights around the world. At least, Yuri missed Otabek’s messages. He could only hope Otabek felt the same way.

The longing must be more evidence toward Yuri’s undiscovered preferences. He sighed heavily when he realized, in the middle of figuring out what to say to Beka. The blonde let his phone drop onto his face, screwing up his eyes in frustration. He was seriously fucked.

Otabek didn’t take more than a minute to receive Yuri’s message and ask for his room number. Pretty much everyone attending the World Championships were staying in the sponsored hotel, so it was just a matter of hopping on the elevator to visit anyone. Yuri hesitated as he typed out his room number, though. He’d gotten a room alone this time around, requested it really. He couldn’t have someone interrupting him in the middle of walking through his routines. Would anyone notice if he invited Otabek over? He was probably being paranoid, but the past month had set him on edge. He wanted to see his friend again, why did he feel like he was doing something so wrong?

Yuri pressed send with a huff. He plugged in his phone to a small speaker, playing the same two tracks he’d been listening to and running over in his head for the past week or so. It was a moment before he registered the knock at his door, and shot up off his bed to answer it. Otabek stood in the doorway, looking sheepish. That was unlike him. Yuri didn’t see the other figure in the doorway until Viktor pushed his way past the threshold and pulled him into a hug.

“Yuri… don’t you ever scare me like that again! You left and we didn’t know where you went! You didn’t even call! For all we knew you could have been dead!”

Viktor’s grip was tight. Yuri had a hard time pushing the man away, somewhere in the back of his mind realizing that Viktor had called him by his real name. He didn’t care, though. He still felt betrayed by his former idol. He finally did pull away, rushing over to his phone to pause his music.

“You’re a creep, you know that? Did you stalk Otabek to my room or something?”

The raven, still standing in the doorway, cleared his throat. Yuri looked over at him, not expecting to see the sheepish expression still on his face. “Actually, I asked him to come with me. I thought we could all get dinner and talk a little before tomorrow’s competition?”

The betrayal must have been clear on Yuri’s face, because Otabek flinched and turned his gaze to the floor. Viktor stood between them, dumbfounded, a confused grin on his face. His tendency toward smiling made Yuri’s cheeks ache, and sent a rush of rage through him. What did he even have to smile about!? Otabek’s pleading look calmed the familiar fury brewing in Yuri’s chest. The blonde deflated a little, then nodded reluctantly. It was his turn to cast his gaze away now, only adding to the awkward air of the room.

Otabek had already chosen a place to eat. It was a small restaurant with typical Finnish foods, more of a local eatery that was set a bit away from the main streets of Helsinki. It was perfect for the three of them to sit down and talk without being bothered by the press. Yuri slouched at the table next to Otabek, searching through the menu for something he wanted to eat. He finally settled on a mushroom stew, though he was already planning to steal a few of his friend’s meatballs and lingonberry preserves.

Viktor cleared his throat when their waiter returned to the kitchen with their orders. He was hesitant, which was very unlike Viktor. The man never cared about what he said or did. Seeing him hesitate and struggle with his words was unnerving.

“Where’s Yuuri?” Yurio cut off the man’s search for words, trying to steer the conversation in his favor. Otabek gave him a look that said how much he thought of the cheap tactic, but Yuri ignored it.

“He’s resting back in our room. He’s competing for Japan’s Men’s Singles, and he’s always been run down by jetlag easily.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“You mean other than supporting my husband?” Viktor gave a playful pout, his infuriating cheerfulness coming back. It was oddly comforting, even with the flash of irritation Yuri felt at the fake hurt in Viktor’s voice. “I’ve been invited to skate non-competitively by the committee. I’ll be doing an exhibition skate at the opening ceremonies tomorrow.”

“Oh… Congratulations.” Yuri blinked a few times, unsure how to respond to that. It seemed even without Russia’s sponsorship, Viktor was still able to skate. He probably wouldn’t get the same privileges, Yuri thought, resentment making its way into the furrowing of his brows.

“Yuri, I… well, I never got to answer you back in Japan. All those things you pointed out. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. You were right, I have been selfish, and it wasn’t fair to you to barely hold my end of our deal.”

This was not what Yuri had been expecting at all. Viktor, openly apologizing instead of making everything into a joke or a game? It made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t get mad at this. He had no mask to hide his feelings behind. Yuri fidgeted in his seat, imploding in on himself. He grabbed his water to busy his hands and his mouth, sucking in gulps through the straw so he could avoid saying anything.

“I understand if you don’t want to forgive me yet, I just wanted you to know that I don’t blame you for being angry.” Yuri glanced at Otabek as Viktor continued. The raven simply stared back at him, chocolate eyes unreadable.

There was a long moment of silence that Yuri couldn’t bring himself to break. He simply wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t know how to deal with these emotions without blowing up and getting angry. Eventually Otabek placed a hand on his knee and changed the subject. The touch made yuri’s heart jump, and he would be lying if he tried to say he didn’t shift into the touch a little.

“So what arrangement will you be skating to, Viktor? You’ll need to make quite an impression for your debut back on the ice.”

Viktor looked just as grateful for the change of subject as Yuri felt. He visibly leaned back in his seat, an easy smile taking up most of his face. “Da, that I do. The Americans have been very taken with this musical that I find quite charming. It is called Hamilton, about one of the men who founded their country. I know I have no right to claim their heritage, but it is just too fun to resist!”

The rest of dinner wasn’t horrible. Yuri managed to chat a little, and Viktor understood his refusal to address his apology. It had been said, that was enough. They weren’t too different, really. Where Yuri resorted to anger, Viktor fell back to joking about anything that upset him or made him uncomfortable. Russians were not known for their emotional stability, after all. Yuri sometimes wished he was old enough to drown his feelings in Vodka and become a walking stereotype.

Viktor finally left the younger skaters at the hotel, returning to his own room to check on his finace. Yuri paused at his door, holding it open with a foot so it didn’t lock on him as he turned back to Otabek. The raven had paused a little too close to Yuri, expecting to be invited into the room.

“I… should get ready for the competition tomorrow.” Otabek’s face fell, and it broke Yuri’s heart. The time they had together was precious to both young men, as fleeting as it always was. Instead of stepping away, Otabek leaned closer, closer. He was impossibly close. How they weren’t touching was a mystery. Yuri shifted his weight, the door to his room closing again and providing a solid surface to press his back against. There was something in Otabek’s eyes that looked hungry, but it was gone as soon as Yuri noticed it. He pulled away with a sharp nod, both of them breathing a little more heavily than before. “Meet me at the kiss and cry after my short program,” Yuri breathed, swallowing around a bone-dry tongue.

It was painful to watch Otabek turn and leave, his strong frame disappearing around the corner. Yuri unlocked his door again, taking a shuddering breath when he was in the safety of the private room. What was that? He had never seen that look in Otabek’s eyes before. It was like a starving animal offered food for the first time in months. The raven was always intense, but this was different.

Yuri sat on the bed for a while remembering how it had felt to be practically pinned to the door by those dark eyes. He’d been so close that he had been able to catch the smell of sweat and soap wafting faintly from his friend. It was different from the sameness of the hotel, of the city, of the airport. It was a scent that could only ever be Otabek.

\-------

Despite his nerves making his leg shake in anticipation, Yuri actually enjoyed watching Viktor skate. It was announced he was skating to What'd I Miss, and the crowd went wild, particularly from the Americans. The song was fun and upbeat, and the Russian skated his heart out. You could tell that he’d missed the energy coming from the crowd as he performed, and his smile was anything but fake as he circled the rink, performing some amazing footwork.

There was almost no time afterwards before the competition was underway. Yuri spent every second of the warmup session on the ice. He could sense his compatriots’ confusion as he practiced step sequences they had never seen before. Until now he’d mapped them out on flat ground in his free time, occasionally checking his choreography on the ice when he could get a moment alone.

Before he started stretching, Yuri skulked off out from under Yakov’s eagle eye. He knew his coach was getting suspicious, but he was pretty sure he could manage, and this step was crucial. He found a representative of the World Championship and handed them a flash drive, instructing them to get his music changed as soon as possible. His death glare seemed to do the trick, and Yuri returned to his yoga mat feeling as though he’d been hooked up to a live wire.

Yuri was one of the last competitors of the day, giving him plenty of time to check on the status of his music. Everything was in place as he stepped toward the ice. He was stopped by a hand on his wrist before he could approach the rink. Yakov was studying Yuri with narrowed eyes. Crap. Would he try to keep Yuri from skating today? The old man gave a heavy sigh, bowing his head. “You’re planning something, and if it causes me trouble, then I will never let you hear the end of it, you got me brat?”

Yuri, in his eagerness to get on the rink, nodded mutely. Yakov let him go and he stepped onto the ice, gliding out to his starting position. He took a deep breath, then another. Why wasn’t the music playing yet? A small whistle of static preceded the announcement of the piece he was skating to, and Yuri realized he had forgotten to give song titles. The announcer was hesitant as he tried to explain what was happening.

“Yuri Plisetsky, sixteen, of St. Petersburg, Russia, was scheduled to perform to Save Yourself I’ll Hold Them Back by the band My Chemical Romance. He has submitted a very last minute song change, and will be skating to… Untitled.”

Finally the opening riffs of the song sounded through the stadium, a familiar melody to most of the attendees. A ripple of surprised recognition passed through the audience as Yuri stepped into motion. Of course they would recognize the tropical instruments from Disney’s newest feature film. It was quickly followed by shocked gasps as a guitar interrupted the island theme, followed by a male vocalist’s rendition of the studio’s next biggest song.

Yuri tuned out the audience’s reactions as the vocals blended together. His first combination spin was coming up. He added a small flourish as he entered it, half improvising his routine as he let the melody carry him across the ice. He had to force himself to keep his vision forward, focused on making everything as perfect as a week’s choreography and practice would allow, rather than on the kiss and cry. He couldn’t worry about whether Otabek would be there to help him make his point. He had to skate first, and score his points.

Yuri focused on the story he was trying to tell. The whole reason he decided to change his routine. Again. He had to make sure this didn’t become a habit. He was a fan of both songs, not ashamed of his love of the feminine movies. They were catchy, and anyone would have to be stupid to not see that they were good. But after his identity crises, they had taken on a whole new meaning. He hadn’t realized how trapped he truly felt until he was forced to come face to face with the truth. He was everything his homeland didn’t want him to be, but he couldn’t help it. He wouldn’t hide it any more. Not now that he’d realized part of what was making him so unhappy.

The song ended, and Yuri didn’t even wait for the crowd to settle. He skated through the rain of flowers and plushies, vaulting the barrier past a fuming Yakov, running on his blades past the reporters and their mics and their shouted questions. As he pushed through the small crowd of people blocking him from the kiss and cry, he saw Otabek waiting for him, confused but patient. Perhaps a little hopeful. All of that was erased by pleased shock as Yuri threw himself into the raven’s arms and pulled him into a deep kiss. Yuri’s lips were cold, and they bumped noses, and there were a million camera shutters going off right in their faces, but it was perfect. Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri, pulling him closer and dipping him as much as was possible while sitting in a chair.

The two were finally broken apart by Yakov, his face red as he grabbed Yuri by the scruff of his costume. His scolding was interrupted by the scores, which had the three frozen in place. They didn’t beat Yuri’s personal best, but they did place him at a respectable spot on the leaderboard. It was impressive considering the fact he hadn’t had any time to perfect the choreography.

Yakov was interrupted again as he drew in a breath to start yelling. Viktor and Yuuri raced to the three as they were all directed out of the kiss and cry, Viktor shouting unintelligible nonsense. He seemed too shocked and happy to make any sense, slipping between Russian and English as he tried to form a sentence.

“Yuri, you… I should have known! You should have said something! You were mad at me for chasing men…!”

Yakov finally cleared his throat, interrupting Viktor’s rambling. His hand came to the small of Yuri’s back and directed him down a hallway. Otabek’s eyes narrowed at the gesture, and he followed the coach closely. The old man didn’t say anything to his student as he led the way toward the exit, instead pulling out his phone and making a few hushed calls in Russian. Viktor and his fiance had trailed behind as they reached the doors, giving enough space to not be caught in any candid pictures, but ready to jump in if the situation called for it. Yuri’s rash decisions were ready to catch up to him just beyond those doors.

Already the group could hear a low hum of excitement coming from outside. Yakov shifted his hand from Yuri’s back to his shoulder, keeping a tight grip on him. The hum rose to a cacophony as soon as the heavy doors were opened. Reporters shouting questions, shutters going off, camera flashes blinding. Then, through it all, came a chunk of ice and snow hurled at Yuri. He was caught off guard, barely seeing the missile through the lights popping right in his face. Yakov jerked Yuri bodily out of the way of being hit, the ball of dirty slush exploding on the arm of his jacket.

Yuri was pushed past the gauntlet of reporters, only to see a mob of fans crowding around the flimsy rope barriers that blocked either side of the walkway to the street. Another ball of slush was aimed right at Yuri’s face, and it was Otabek who threw himself in front of it this time. He grunted as the oily thing hit his costume, already threatening to leave a dark stain. Yuri realized that the crowd surrounding them on all sides weren’t fans. Or rather, they weren’t fans any more. There were discarded signs from Yuri’s Angels littering the ground, and disgusted faces wherever he looked. The first two snowballs were only a tentative beginning to the barrage. More chunks of ice and slush were hurled at the small group before security could rush in to stop it. Yuri realized that Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki were flanking his other side, and he felt something tighten in his chest.

One of the snowballs managed to slip through their defenses and hit Yuri squarely across the temple. The shock of the impact and the biting cold distracted him for a moment from the solidness of the hit. The projectile hadn’t exploded on contact like the others. It fell with a clatter to the ground as grit and gravel clung to Yuri’s hair. He stumbled and lost his footing, a hand shooting to the side of his face where he could feel a trickle of hot blood mix with the frozen ice chilling him. The dirty snow had been hiding a rock that had landed with deadly accuracy, stunning the young skater as he fell to the ground.

Strong arms lifted Yuri back up, and he managed to stumble into the taxi that was waiting for them at the end of the short walkway. Everything was a blur until the car pulled away, and Viktor was leaning in and saying something to him. Yuri’s ears rang, and he scrunched up his eyes and shook his head to try and focus. He regretted the action immediately, a hand flying up to cup his bleeding temple.

“Hey, settle down now, Yura. Follow my finger with your eyes.” Viktor’s voice was gentle, the man turning him in his seat so he could do the test. Yuri winced a little, but managed to follow the movement just fine. “I think you’re okay, but we should see if we can have a medic look at you.”

“I’m gonna have one hell of a headache,” Yuri mumbled in his native tongue. He sighed and leaned back into Otabek’s arms, wiping some of the grit off of his cheek and out of his hair. “What was that even about? Those assholes could have hurt any of us! What the fuck!?”

There was concern in the faces of Yuri’s fellow skaters. Viktor’s Yuuri sat in the front seat, twisting around so he could watch the scene. Otabek was the first to clear his throat and speak up. One of his hands stroked Yuri’s shoulder idly. “Yura, what did you think would happen coming out like that? People are shocked, and… not everyone is happy about it. First Viktor, and now you? They don’t think this is okay, they don’t understand. They’re angry.”

“But that’s no reason to throw rocks at us!” Yuri fumed. “I expected a negative reaction. I’m ready to be excommunicated, to never be able to return home. I’m even ready to lose this competition! I thought the public would at least be decent enough to not throw fucking rocks at me! This isn’t the middle ages, stoning isn’t a thing that people do anymore!”

“I agree, it was a little extreme,” Viktor sighed. “But we can’t change that now. Yakov stayed behind to make sure whoever hurt you gets punished. We have more important things to address.”

“Like what?” Yuri didn’t like the mischievous look in Viktor’s eye.


	8. Shitting Glitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional vulnerability and feeling out of place in a culture you were never exposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for such sparse updates, but at least I actually am writing this story. I have a feeling it will be wrapped up soon, as we're starting to reach the destination I was planning from the start. Also the gay neighborhood is totally inspired by my beloved Ybor City here in Florida.

Yuri was given a few minutes to change into street clothes before Viktor was knocking on the door to his apartment. He was in the middle of buttoning his pants, and gave an exasperated sigh as he heard a second, louder knock. “Give me a fucking minute!” He yelled through the heavy hotel door, to which there was no response. When he finally stepped into the hallway, he found a decent group of his fellow skaters waiting for him. Pichit was chatting excitedly with Viktor, while JJ and Christof leaned against the wall a few paces away. Yuuri stood glancing between the two groups, partly unsure of himself and partly to make sure they were all together.

The one face Yuri wanted to see was invisible to him until he glanced to his left. Otabek was standing right next to the door, hands in his pockets and looking as though someone had just shot his beloved family pet. Dark eyes glanced up at the sound of the door closing, but the gloom in them didn’t fade away. Otabek was about to open his mouth to speak when Pichit interrupted.

“Okay, so I found a few bars and clubs not that far from here. I think we could walk it, honestly. It should be our best bet.”

“Hold the fuck up,” Yuri growled, making everyone’s heads turn to stare at him. “What exactly is this?”

“It’s your coming out party, Yura! We don’t have much of a subculture alive in Russia, so this is perfect! You can see what it’s like being a part of the gay community.” Viktor had clapped his hands together as he started to speak, a tic he had when he got excited. Yuri could hear the tiniest of sighs to his left, and he silently shared Otabek’s sentiment. He didn’t want to go out and party, he just wanted to talk to his best friend. But he was dragged along anyways, Viktor and Pichit intent on this plan of theirs.

The other skaters formed a protective circle around Yuri as they led him down the street and across an intersection. It felt to him more like they were keeping him caged than protecting him from the occasional hostile glare. Most of the spectators and press were still at the arena watching the remaining competitions. Yuuri Katsuki kept apologizing, but after the first few Yurio just tuned him out. He glanced at Otabek again, trying desperately to catch his eye, but the raven kept his gaze outward toward the public. Yuri could imagine the scowl on his face, a look of disappointment. He felt a tightness in his chest that only grew as they kept walking.

Yuri hadn’t noticed it, being too caught up in his own worries over what Otabek was thinking, but the buildings had slowly been changing. More and more flags and banners bearing rainbow colors had cropped up. They lined doorways and display windows, accompanied by pink equals signs over red backgrounds. The crowds had changed, as well. It was a Friday night, and a multitude of men and women of all walks of life were wandering the streets. The atmosphere felt so different to anything Yuri had ever experienced. There was an energy about the place. It was different from the tense buzz of a competition. The tingling that started in your hands and spread to a numbness throughout your whole body. The air was cold, but he felt a warmth spread through him. Yuri’s first realization as to why was when he spotted two older men -one with a sizable beer gut and the other with salt and pepper hair- holding hands as they crossed the street in between traffic. After that he noticed it everywhere. A woman in a heavy trench coat a few sizes too big and combat boots was leaned up against a wall, her partner giggling and blushing. A group of young men exited a building with heavy bass filtering through the doors, donning winter coats over their flashy attire.

Yuri had never been to a gay neighborhood before, but he was distinctly aware that this was one. Once the realization hit everything seemed much too bright and much too loud. The blonde felt out of place. He trailed behind his friends, now that their protective circle had loosened. One of the men from the club passed by Yuri, his cologne doing nothing to mask the stench of sweat from heavy dancing. For a brief moment Yuri took note of the heavy makeup he wore, and the mesh top under his coat. He was no stranger to flamboyant costumes, but this was different from something he would wear on the ice.

The man smiled at Yuri and winked as he passed between the blonde and the rest of the group. Yuri hurried to catch up, but hunched his shoulders self-consciously. Pichit was saying something excitedly that got drowned out by the noise from a passing car, but his wild gesturing directed Yuri’s gaze to a restaurant with a small rainbow flag at the top of the door frame. They all shuffled in out of the cold, the wind and the noise of the street seeming to suddenly fade away beyond the walls. Yuri breathed a sigh of relief and let his shoulders relax.

The group was seated quickly, the place surprisingly empty for the number of people outside. They must all be too busy with the bars to sit down for a meal. Or perhaps Pichit had specifically picked out a quieter place for them to dine. Yuri found himself sitting in the middle of a long table, staring down at a menu that was shoved into his face. It was only when he started reading the menu did he realize they were at a pizza parlor. Looking around the table, Viktor was to his left, Christof on his right. Pichit was across from him, Yuuri on Viktor’s other side. JJ and Otabek sat at the two furthest corners opposite Yuri.

Otabek had a deep scowl on his face as he scanned the menu. Pichit was proposing something about pizzas and suggesting toppings, but Yuri didn’t pay him any attention. After what seemed like an eternity of staring at the raven, Yuri finally managed to catch Otabek’s eye. There was a lot held in that one look. Confusion, longing, hesitation, and more that Yuri couldn’t begin to describe. All he wanted to do was talk to Beka, but the young man was too far away, and there were too many people around.

As they waited for their food to arrive, Yuri pulled out his phone and opened his wifi. He started scrolling his social media, looking for anything about his performance. He kept scrolling through worse and worse comments. There were videos of his kiss with Beka, and what some people were saying made his heart sink. There were slurs and insults from more people than he could count. They hurt, and the pain in his chest reminded him of the sore spot on his temple where there was a growing lump. Yuri’s face must have turned sour, because Yuuri Katsuki reached over and placed a hand over the blond’s phone.

“Don’t do that. It will just make you feel worse,” the man whispered. Viktor looked down and sighed with a small frown. The comment had halted the conversation. Yuri looked into the eyes of his friends and suddenly stood.

“Yuri, where are you going!?” That was Pichit.

“Come now, you can’t let a few people spoil your fun. We’re here to celebrate!” Christof.

“Da, we’ve all been through it. Well, most of us. Trust me, it will pass.” Viktor.

JJ gave Yuri a look full of sympathy that seemed alien on his face. Yuri didn’t dare look at Otabek. He was the only one who hadn’t said anything.

“I’m going back to my room,” Yuri finally mumbled. “I just want some quiet right now.”

No one made a move to stop him as he gathered his jacket and headed back out into the cold. Yuri had forgotten the cacophony of music and drunk partygoers, and it hit him full force as he stepped out of the door. He tried to make his way back to the hotel, but he’d been so distracted on the way there that he hadn’t paid any attention to the route they’d taken. He was paused by a large group of people blocking the sidewalk, apparently arguing over where they would go next. A few people split from the group, turning from their friends straight into Yuri.

_“Oh, careful sweetie. Here, are you okay?”_

_“Oh wow, I love your outfit. You look super cute.”_

Yuri flinched and backed away as one of the men brushed him off. He didn’t quite understand their Finnish, but he caught a few words. He growled a sour “Don’t touch me” in Russian, making the two men and the woman look amongst themselves. They spoke slower, as though that would make up for his not understanding their language.

_“Come dance with us!”_

_“We can get you in, don’t worry, I know the bouncer.”_

The group of men and women were starting to lead him away, making Yuri’s heart race. He couldn’t go with them, but he didn’t know what to do. In the panic of the moment he’d forgotten all of his English. The sheer number of people in the group was able to shove Yuri closer to the open doorway of a club with blaring music. Under any other circumstances the blonde would be ecstatic about this opportunity, but something just felt wrong about it.

A familiar touch landed on Yuri’s shoulder and he turned to gaze into Otabek’s dark chocolate eyes. In a moment he’d grabbed the raven’s hand and was clinging to him, and Otabek was explaining to the group that they were together, and would be leaving now. Yuri gave his friend’s hand a quick squeeze, but it wasn’t returned. Otabek led them down an empty alley, pushing Yuri against a wall.

“What were you thinking!?” Otabek leaned in, pinning Yuri to the wall again. This time there was unbridled anger in the young man’s eyes. It was an emotion Yuri wasn’t used to seeing in his friend. He felt suddenly timid, mouth working wordlessly as he tried to summon his reasoning for walking out. Otabek continued without giving him a second to regain his wits. “Do you know how dangerous it can be in these areas!? What if someone kidnapped you!? What if someone mugged you!? Were you even thinking of all the shit that could happen? Or were you just thinking of yourself!”

“What do you mean?” Yuri finally managed to croak. He wasn’t used to being in this position. He could take a verbal lashing from his coach or his grandfather, but Otabek was different. Otabek had always been so kind and understanding. Otabek had seen him at some of his most vulnerable moments.

“I mean that these places may seem like fun and games, some streets with clubs to party at, but they are dangerous! People in these areas are either desperate or drunk off their asses. You shouldn’t be here, Yuri. This isn’t for you.”

“You’re not making any sense, Beka!” The use of his given name stung worse than if Otabek had slapped him in the face. Yuri couldn’t remember the last time his friend hadn’t used an affectionate nickname for him. He missed it, and the pain and disappointment kindled his familiar anger. He finally had that fire back after a confusing few moments, and he used it to shove Otabek away and advance out from the wall. “It was you all who dragged me out here for some stupid party! I didn’t want to be here! I just wanted to go back home with you and talk!”

There was a stunned silence between the two. Otabek was still seething, his own anger not dying quickly. He didn’t quite seem prepared to deal with the emotion. Quiet, thoughtful Otabek was not the kind of person prone to violent outbursts. The raven let out little huffs of frustration that seemed to lessen the tension in his body as his breath steamed into the chill air. Yuri felt his body start to shudder as it tried to stay warm in the winter cold that he wasn’t quite dressed for. He wondered if Otabek’s hands were shaking for the same reason, or for something else.

Finally Yuri felt a warm touch to his bare hand. Otabek had grabbed him by the hand again and begun leading the way back to the busy street. They were entirely silent for the walk back, the bustle of the crowds seeming to die down in their vicinity. Yuri was racked by violent shudders by the time they stepped into the blessed warmth of the hotel lobby. In his rush to get dressed he’d only thrown on a heavy jacket, rather than his proper winter coat. How Otabek wasn’t freezing in his own leather jacket was a mystery. The raven turned when he heard a soft groan from Yuri. There was a frown on his face, until he noted Yuri’s shivering. Without a word Otabek took off his scarf and wrapped it around Yuri’s neck, the residual body heat helping to warm him up.

It wasn’t until they reached Yuri’s room and the door was closed behind them that Otabek heaved a heavy, tired sigh. Yuri rounded on him, jutting out his lower jaw indignantly. “Want to explain what that was about?”

Otabek sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. For a moment Yuri thought he was going to refuse. He was about to continue on his little tirade when Otabek held up a hand. The raven took a moment longer to collect his thoughts before he spoke. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was worried and scared, and I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want you going out there in the state you must be in, and I was already frustrated with Viktor. It was still stupid of you to wander off on your own, but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

For a moment Yuri was again shocked into silence. Otabek always had such a way with words. It was almost a shame that no one ever heard how eloquent he could be. But at the same time, knowing that he was one of the few people to hear the raven speak his mind like this made Yuri impossibly pleased.

“I shouldn’t have run off,” he started lamely. Compared to Otabek, he felt like a foal just getting its feet under itself. The raven snorted softly, making Yuri roll his eyes and smack him gently on the shoulder. Just like that, they were back to their old selves. “Oh shut up. I’m not good with apologies.”

“Understatement of the year.”

Yuri heaved a groan and flopped onto the bed dramatically. “I can’t believe I kissed that stupid fucking mouth of yours! You’re such a jerk, Beka!”

“Look who’s calling me a jerk. And I had absolutely no idea what you were planning. You could have at least given me a warning.” Otabek crossed his arms over his chest, and Yuri felt his mind swim with anxiety.

“You don’t think it was a bad idea, do you? Fuck, I just ruined my career. I changed my music last minute. I didn’t even give them song titles, Beka! I look like an idiot, plus the whole issue with… what do people call it?”

“Coming out?”

“That. What does that even mean, anyways?”

Otabek pursed his lips, as though trying to figure out the right way to explain the term. “It wouldn’t make much sense,” he finally hummed. Yuri accepted the answer. He wasn’t too interested in the subculture at the moment. After all, he had never been exposed to it beyond Viktor and what had happened tonight.

“Was that okay?” Yuri hummed softly. He glanced at his friend, who furrowed his brows. “Kissing you, I mean. That wasn’t… I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything.”

That intense expression was in Otabek’s eyes again. In a moment the raven had pinned Yuri to the bed, kneeling on the floor with his arms on either side of Yuri’s thighs. He seemed to be making a habit of doing that. It was as though he was afraid Yuri would run away if he didn’t trap the blonde between his arms.

“Yuri, may I kiss you?”

Heat flushed the blond’s face. Yuri nodded just a bit. It was all Otabek needed to stand and press their lips together. It was a lot less clumsy than earlier. How many hours had passed since the kiss and cry? Not that many, by Yuri’s estimate. He started chuckling as Otabek kissed him, making his friend pull back a fraction. “What’s so funny?” Otabek’s voice was all gruff breathlessness, and it made Yuri groan softly between his giggles.

“I just… I took the name literally.” He chuckled a bit harder at Otabek’s confused expression, pushing the raven up so he could breathe. “The kiss and cry. We literally kissed.”

Otabek began chuckling a little as well, heaving a soft sigh. “No one is going to believe me when I tell them how cute you are.”

The comment made Yuri immediately stop giggling. He pouted up at Otabek, this time making a grin break out on the raven’s face. He swooped in for another peck on the lips before laying down next to Yuri. Without words they found a comfortable position to cuddle in. Yuri’s legs still hung off the side of the bed, and Otabek held him in his arms as they simply lay in each other’s company.

Otabek shifted after a while, pulling his arm out from underneath Yuri’s side and shaking it to regain blood flow. He smiled down at the blonde when Yuri pulled his legs up onto the bed and curled up. “You really can be so cute, Yura.” Before he knew it they were kissing again, and this time nothing filled Yuri’s mind other than the way Otabek’s breath mingled with his, or how he could smell the faint lingering traces of sweat. He was pressed back into the bed by an eager mouth and strong arms, and Yuri couldn’t help but moan softly when for a moment Otabek leaned some of his weight onto him.

“Sorry,” the raven mumbled, shifting his weight fully so he wasn’t leaning on Yuri’s shoulders. But Yuri shook his head, pulling Otabek on top of himself. He got the picture, and pressed a hand to the blond’s throat as their lips met again. It would come as a surprise every time he squeezed gently, putting pressure on either side of Yuri’s neck. And every time Yuri gasped breathlessly into the space between them. They were both fascinated by this turn of events. Eventually Otabek was simply hovering over Yuri, hand pressing the blond’s chin upward with its pressure, and watching as Yuri’s eyes rolled in excitement.

They were both feeling the effects of the makeout, and eventually Yuri had to push Otabek away. “Beka, I…” He glanced between them, where their arousal was clearly evident. Otabek shifted his hand from Yuri’s neck, trailing his thumb over the blond’s lips.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Yuri. I will never ask you to do something you don’t want to.”

Yuri gave his friend one more quick peck on the lips before sitting up. He hugged a knee to his chest to try and hide his stiffness. “Why am I so bad at this?”

“What do you mean?”

Yuri sighed heavily. He turned his head away, finding it easier to concentrate when he fixed his eyes on the carpet by the foot of the bed. “Well I know we haven’t been friends that long,” he started. “And I don’t know much about this. Yuri and Viktor seem to know what they’re doing, and they barely met a year ago, but… I feel so unsure of this…” Yuri gestured between him and Otabek. He could feel tears of frustration stinging behind his eyes. Why should he be upset, when he was finally able to be so close to the person he cared most about? Otabek took Yuri in his arms and shushed him quietly. It seemed they fit together like a puzzle, Yuri’s head finding the perfect spot to rest in the hollow of Otabek’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to rush into this, Yura. Some people just know when they found the right person. I wish Yuri and Viktor all the best, but I can’t be like them either. I’ve… had a couple of bad relationships in the past. I always felt like I rushed into them too quickly because I was desperate for someone to be intimate with. But I learned it’s much more important to be friends first. I don’t care if this never goes anywhere, because I’ll have you in my life. We can figure this out together, da?”

“Da.” Yuri whispered. He leaned into Otabek’s arms with a heavy sigh of relief. They cuddled for a while longer, not talking, simply holding each other. Eventually Otabek pulled himself away and lamented the fact that he needed to get some proper rest. They both did, if they wanted to do well in the competition tomorrow for their free skates. Yuri agreed, but made Otabek promise they could share a bed the next night, when their competitions were over. The raven agreed with a chuckle and a fond smile. He wished Yuri goodnight before closing the hotel door, leaving the room too quiet and too empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find that writing makeouts that lead immediately to sex is a horrible way to go about things. More examples need to be made of sharing physical intimacy that doesn't lead automatically to sex. Anyone is allowed to refuse to do more than they are comfortable with, and consent to one act does not equal consent to everything. If more young people see examples of this, of how sex is not the be-all end-all of a physical or emotional relationship, perhaps they won't feel pressured to "finish what they started," or will know better than to expect something when there is no obligation.


End file.
